Feline Fallaciousness
by CrystallicSky
Summary: How was Jack Spicer, a script editor living in an apartment in New York, to know how much trouble taking in a stray could cause? CHACK
1. Prologue

**Feline Fallaciousness  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown, or any of the characters in it, so don't go whining to someone that I told you I did.  
**

**Warning(s): Cursing, relationships between two men, AKA SHOUNEN AI, YAOI, SLASH, HOMOSEXUAL, GAY ROMANCE. This bothers you? Dont' read it. Very simple concept, people.  
**

**Notes:Pshhh...I don't know. Read it, and I'll get back to you in my Author's Notes; maybe I'll have more to say by then. -.-**

Having finally managed to find and remove his umbrella from his messenger bag, Jack opened it and covered himself with the object despite that fact that it was pretty useless as he was already soaked to the bone.

If he had known it was _monsoon _season, he'd have waited to pick up dinner until tomorrow and eaten ramen or something instead!

Stopping at the crosswalk and waiting for the little man to light up and remove the chances of him being struck by a vehicle, the young goth deeply wondered why the fuck he couldn't pass his driving test and get his license already. Maybe it was a karmic revenge for having laughed at Spongebob's troubles one too many times? Well, it _was_ New York, after all, so odds were that having a car wouldn't help much, but shit, at least a car'd be _dryer_!

A hiss pierced through his disgruntled musings and the sound of the rain, and Jack looked to his left and saw something he didn't recall seeing before: a tiny, cardboard box, doused through and through and dilapidated beyond all belief, a dark-furred cat staring up at him from inside of it.

Different from what he'd expected, the feline wasn't a pathetic, big-eyed kitten, drenched and mewling helplessly; no, this was an adult cat, posture stiff and dignified as its golden, narrowed eyes glared at the goth, not begging, 'pwease take me home wif you' by any means. If saying anything at all, it was 'what are _you_ looking at, scum?'

Somewhat unnerved by such a stare, Jack turned his eyes instead to the card in front of the box written in dripping, black Sharpie, that read, "SATANIC CAT; EXORCISE OR PUT DOWN."

The young man found himself scoffing at this; sure, its eyes were kinda creepy if you stared at 'em too long, but from all the other cats he'd ever seen or encountered through a friend, that was typical! The jackass who'd owned this cat had probably just convinced himself it was 'satanic' so he wouldn't have to feel any of the guilt of abandoning the poor thing on the street!

Making a decision, Jack walked the step or two to the box, laying down his grocery bag and hefting the feline up into his grip, hands under both of its front legs. Though he was a bit surprised when it didn't struggle or hiss and bite at him when he did so, he was glad, as he saw no collar or tags indicating the cat'd had his shots, and he'd rather not have to go to a hospital for rabies on a miserable fuck day like this.

"Satanic cat, huh?" he questioned to no one, eyebrow raised, to which the sopping animal merely stared at him. "Well, I guess cats are the typical gay guy's pet, and it'd be pretty sweet to have an evil feline roaming my apartment. Wanna come home with me?"

The cat nodded at him, and Jack's eyes went wide. "You understand me?" Another nod. "Well," the goth sighed, "that's weird...bitchin', but weird. So...do you want me to carry you, or would you rather ride in my bag?" The feline made his choice clear as he wormed himself out of Jack's hands and leapt to the top of the messenger bag at the goth's hip, making no move to go inside, but laying casually atop it, comfortably protected from the elements by the black trench coat Jack happened to be wearing over the bag. "Ah. Okay, that works, too, I guess."

The young man picked up the plastic bag he had put down and sauntered back over to the crosswalk, noting with a soft curse that it had _just_ gone back to the 'don't walk' light. The warmth against his side, however, calmed his hurry to get home; he could wait.

After all, it wasn't as if the first company he'd had in a month and a half (not _human _company, obviously, but company nonetheless) was going anywhere, and when he _did_ get home, he'd get the chance to make dinner for two instead of the usual depressing meal for one, and the thought made the rest of the six-mile walk to his apartment in the rain _infinitely_ more bearable with the cat at his side.

**A/N: So, obviously, there'll be more than this; of _course_ there'll be more than this: this is only the prologue, because it's three in the morning right now, and I want to post this but I don't want to write any more just now.**

**...I really don't have much to say at this time, but there'll be some more chapters later when it's not a ridiculous hour of the night and I have time to write it, and I _do_ know where I'm going with this, by the way, so no worries for you about me running out of plot and dropping the story where it is. XD**

**Anyways, that's all for now, so thanks for reading and I hope you liked this little teaser! :D**


	2. Chapter 1

**Feline Fallaciousness  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown, or any of the characters in it, so don't go whining to someone that I told you I did.  
**

**Warning(s): Cursing, relationships between two men, AKA SHOUNEN AI, YAOI, SLASH, HOMOSEXUAL, GAY ROMANCE. This bothers you? Dont' read it. Very simple concept, people.  
**

**Notes: Pshhh...I don't know. Read it, and I'll get back to you in my Author's Notes; maybe I'll have more to say by then. -.-**

In an odd coincidence, dinner that night had happened to be salmon, and judging by the hungry, undignified way the stray was scarfing it down, the time Jack'd spent in college dicking around in the culinary arts was appreciated.

Noting that the hunk of fish was very nearly gone, the goth took the moment to slip a small saucer of milk next to the plate on the yellowish carpet (perhaps a whitish color several hundred years ago). Jack didn't know where he _got_ a saucer or how he knew what one even looked like, but hey, he'd only recently come out, so maybe it was some instinctive gay thing: the possession of and the ability to immediately identify all manner of fruity kitchen ware.

The cat paused and looked up at him with cool indifference at the action, making the glance very brief before finishing up his dinner and lapping at the milk.

Sitting on the couch, cheek in his hand, Jack watched the cat in a bored manner before asking, "So, you feel better?"

Licking his lips of the milk droplets clinging stubbornly to his whiskers, the feline clearly dismissed the question and jumped up on the arm of the sofa, walking along the back of it until he was in reach of the windowsill, which he then relocated himself to and stared at the dismal-looking city below.

Turning and standing on his knees, arms folded over the back of the couch, the goth's red eyes followed the tomcat's gaze and he sighed softly. "Yeah, the view sucks, I know, but the rent's not so bad, and since my parents cut me off and my job doesn't pay fabulously, I need the low cost so I can have money for other things and such." He felt a little silly talking to a _cat_ about his financial situation, but he felt better to see a considering expression of the animal's features that meant he understood.

A silence lapsed over the two beings for a long while, red and golden eyes staring out at the congested traffic of the dreary, New York streets.

"So...this is kinda awkward. You got a name?"

Jack saw the subtle tensing of the cat's muscles and from his new posture, though his eyes were still fixed out of the window, the goth knew he wasn't really looking out there. Slowly, the feline turned and jumped from the windowsill back onto the couch, making his way over to the young man who had taken him in, uncaringly plopping down onto the black jean-clothed lap.

The cat eventually shook his head 'no', clearly having dismissed the idea of retaining a former name from a previous owner.

Therefore, Jack took the responsibility to think up a name to call his new cat by.

His first thought was 'Melanthios', a Greek name meaning, 'black flower'. Though a bit lengthy, it could be shortened to the nickname 'Thios', and all in all had a dark, menacing sound to it, something one might picture some sort of devilish, supernatural dictator to at the enunciation of it.

But it wasn't right: though the name had a certain charm to it, it wasn't the _appropriate_ charm, too...old world-y, and not modern enough.

Besides, though the cat's fur was dark, it wasn't quite black enough to deserve the title meaning, '_black_ flower.' He had discovered, as he toweled the wet feline off after bringing him home, that when dry, the shadowy fur had these green sort of...highlights, for lack of a better word, then glaringly obvious under the fluorescent lighting of the tiny bathroom, and now even further visible under the more proper lighting of a sterling silver floor lamp in the living room. It was really cool-looking, to be frank, and it sort of reminded Jack of when one of his crazy girlfriends (not like _that,_ just a friend who happened to be a girl) had streaked her black hair purple.

The only difference between the two was that on the cat, it _worked._

Regardless, continuously calling it 'the cat' in his mind was getting irksome, and so the goth returned to his task of naming his new room-mate.

'Devin' was the next idea to come to mind; two short, sharp syllables that seemed to weave together elegantly, a name implying intelligence and sophistication. It, too, was a name related to blackness ('little black one'), but the fact of its Irish origin compensated for the forest sheen of the animal's fur, at least in Jack's mind.

But, no, _that_ wasn't right either. Sure, it was a good name, fitting, even, but now it was _too_ modern, _too_ new age-sounding, and it distinctly lacked that old world charm that the young man felt the feline on his lap deserved to have along with that modern sound.

In a flash, out of nowhere, it came to him: the perfect name.

Chase.

It was of French origin and had been around for a_ while_, but it was still one of those trendy names that sounded really cool on your tongue, you know, the kind of name you might see on the rebellious bad boy in some daytime soap opera, but still dignified enough to be someone of high importance.

Its meaning was 'hunter', and the cat _definitely _had that vibe, the dangerous sort of aura that a wild panther or tiger might give off, and all this despite his relatively small size, only just big enough to comfortably occupy the lap of a twenty-two year old man whose legs (in his own opinion) were particularly scrawnier than most.

"Chase," he said firmly aloud, deciding, "that'll be your name from now on."

The newly-dubbed Chase looked up at this, having previously been cleansing the fur of his head of the unpleasant, clingy rain smell and just grooming himself in general (no doubt displeased with the hasty, half-assed attempt by Jack to dry him), and apparently deeming the name acceptable, he returned to his self-imposed task.

Jack smiled and picked him up, standing to his feet himself. "Okay, okay, I get the hint: you want a _real_ bath." Shifting the overall lax cat better into his grip, he muttered the obligatory, "Let's go.", totally oblivious of the 'just caught the canary and managed to make the owner apologize to _him_ for not having had more canaries' look on Chase's feline features.

...

Jack remembered the constant repetition by cat owners of the phrase, "If you live with a cat, despite what the official papers say, _it_ owns _you_."

Within only the first week of living with Chase, he was beginning to see just how true that was...

...

DAY ONE

...

"What, hotel shampoo not good enough for you?" Jack demanded, hands on his hips.

Chase turned his nose up, as if outrageously offended by even the _implication _that he would use such sub par cleansing products, somehow managing to retain that aloof, superior nature that other cats lose when wet and in an old, porcelain bathtub, a smiley-faced loofah sponge at their feet.

"Oh, come on, it was from a Four Seasons!" the goth protested, but the feline was adamant.

A dark paw deftly knocked the miniature bottle out of a white hand, the object clattering to the floor with the harsh sound that plastic usually makes against cheap linoleum.

"Aw," Jack moaned as it slid behind the toilet in a spot he was guaranteed _never_ to be able to get it, "that sucks; what am I supposed to wash you with _now?_"

Chase's eyes turned to the corner of the bathtub, intentionally leading the human's gaze to the only luxury he allowed himself these days, his _very_ top-shelf, _very_ expensive shampoo (lilac-scented, in case you were wondering).

Seeing no other option, not really wanting to get clawed in the face or something for going back on his promise to properly bathe the cat, Jack sighed, reaching for the bottle, even as his inner-child whimpered feeble protests of, "_B-but...but that's miiiiiine...!_"

Afterwards, Chase had been fairly pleasant, _clearly_ happy with the lilac enhancing his own personal scent instead of it being bogged down with rain-water and was flaunting it _quite_ openly, marking his owner all over with it by rubbing up against him, _particularly_ doing that figure-eight thing around his ankles when he was standing. One might figure such a thing as a display of affection, but Jack knew better.

By what he had managed to judge of the cat's personality, Chase was obviously smug about manipulating his owner into doing what he wanted, and had decided to keep him, making sure his scent on the young man was plain enough to ward off any other animals that might try to own him. This was one cat who did _not_ play second banana.

And of course, this idea was only proven correct as, having been up late enough for his liking at 1:45 AM, Jack finally decided to go to bed, Chase following somewhat interestedly at his heels.

Upon entering his sparse bedroom, the goth changed into a more comfortable outfit, removing his eyeliner and ruffling the towel he kept in his room through his hair, wiping away what was left of the gel there. "Okay," he said aloud, looking casually around his room for things that might suit his purposes, "I have a winter blanket or two that I don't _totally_ need right now, and I could fold those up into a temporary bed or something-..." He stopped upon taking note of the feline's location, curled up on his favorite bean-bag pillow (shaped like a cherry) at the head of his bed. "Or...you could sleep there. Whatever."

The young man was tired, and so didn't even care that his space was being invaded as he flopped down onto his bed, pulling a blanket over himself to keep from freezing during the night.

Jack soon jumped at an odd feeling near his scalp, and looking up at the cat by his head, he saw Chase licking his hair, lightly tangling the reddish strands as he did so.

The goth could've sworn he'd have heard maniacal laughter at any minute now, some menacing voice assuring, "Yes, _good _human...bend to my will..." But, such a thing never came, or if it did, not before sleep arrived to him.

...

DAY TWO

...

"Okay, Mr. Spicer, it looks like we're just about done here. Chase was a _very_ good boy for all of his shots, _especially_ considering that you told me he was a stray."

"Yeah," Jack smiled, laying an appreciative hand on said cat's back, "he's looking to be one of those cats that are totally unaffected by everything."

The white-haired veterinarian laughed at this before straightening his glasses and looking at his new client seriously. "You know, I also couldn't help but notice that he hasn't been neutered."

The goth tensed at the exact same time as Chase did, and hesitantly prompted, "Y-yeah?"

"Yes," the man nodded, "you see, it would be in your best interests to have the procedure done. It would not only reduce his testosterone levels and make him calmer and more manageable at home, but it could eliminate the chances of him getting too frisky with a female and knocking her up when he's outside (if he _will_ be an outside cat, of course). There are _more_ than enough strays in this city, Mr. Spicer, and I assure you, its even worse to see it happen to newborn kittens. So, should I schedule an appointment? The next date open is Wednesday of next week."

"Uh..." Jack felt a distinct chill rippling through his spine and glanced nervously down at the feline in question.

The expression of Chase's face was thunderous, fury burning in eyes of molten gold, and the look was fixed directly on him, it's message _plainly_ clear.

_Do it, and I will destroy you._

The goth hastily turned back to the vet with a sheepish smile as he decided, "N-no need for that, Dr. Boxleitner! I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Really?" the man questioned, eyebrow raised, "I know your financial situation isn't the best, but at the very least, I could cover some of the procedure's cost myself so that you don't have to pay as much-"

"No, no really!" Jack assured, "That's okay! Chase hasn't been a problem at home, and I'll probably just keep him inside, so, you know, I figure I'd rather not make him go through surgery if he doesn't need it and all..."

"Oh...well," the aging man sighed, "if you're sure..."

"I am, I'm _very_ sure about this; I'll just go up to the front desk and pay the bill for the check-up and the shots and the tags and everything." The young man hefted his cat into his arms. "Thanks, okay, bye!"

Before the veterinarian could stop him and ask what his hurry was, he caught sight of one of his favorite clients and greeted, "Steven! Long time, no see! Has Squeaky been giving you trouble again?"

After leaving the animal hospital, Jack frowned at the feline in his arms as he began the long walk back to his apartment building from here (he _could_ conceivably hail a taxi, but with the cost of the just-concluded visit, he'd rather not waste the money if he didn't _have_ to). "Okay, Chase, I'm only gonna say this once: you want to keep your balls, you don't knock up any street whores. Got it?"

Chase merely looked at him acceptingly, curling his tail around a slim, white wrist before losing interest in the human's red-eyed gaze and simply resting against the black cloth covering an undefined chest, licking at his somewhat dirty paws (he had actually had to _walk_ on the same floor as filthy canine _mongrels_ in that veterinarian's office, ugh).

The goth sighed and kept walking, muttering a resigned, "I hope that's a 'yes'..."

...

DAY THREE

...

Jack was happy, traversing the aisles of PetSmart, that Chase mostly stayed close to him, occasionally drawing near to a shelf or two in interest, but returning to the goth's side momentarily.

"Chase," the human spoke, garnering the attention of the dark-furred animal from a particularly succulent looking goldfish tank, "c'mere so I don't have to guess what kind of collar you want and get you this creepy neon yellow one with blue rhinestones and pink glitter." Needless to say, the feline wandered over almost immediately.

Golden eyes roamed over the selection of collars casually, inspecting them for suitability and causing their owner to become severely disappointed. The colors were _far_ too bright and the designs too silly, or, as was the case on most, _both_, and Chase found he hated the majority of them. Looking over to his human to convey this point, if cats could roll their eyes, he would have at the sight of Jack giggling at a black collar with fish skeletons decorating it.

Looking away from the foolish young man, a flash of deep red caught his eye, and upon seeing what it was, Chase picked it up in his mouth and dropped it at the goth's feet.

"Hm?" Jack picked the object up, recognizing it as a red cloth collar, and he glanced back at the cat for confirmation. "You want this one?" Chase nodded, and the goth acceptingly dropped it into the small store-given basket.

Moving on to another part of the store, Jack began looking around at the selection of pet beds, and was surprised to see a choice so quickly made as Chase climbed a shelf or two and laid casually in a soft black one, trimmed with silky bronze thread. "Wow, decided already?" Small, feline body curling up in comfort, the animal in question purred, satisfied with his choice. The goth grabbed the bed and placed it in the basket, Chase and all. "Hmm, I _do_ like it, but do I really want to pay for the cat?"

Said cat looked up at him with a scowl before hopping out of the cheap, plastic carrier and strutting off ahead of Jack.

After a while of dealing with the tantrum and following him at a distance, the young man called, "Hey, Chase, hold up!" The tomcat humored his human's request and glanced behind him, seeing the goth near a shelf of pet food. "You wanna pick out your own brand or what?" Golden eyes went wide and Chase snorted in offense, huffing and storming away into the next aisle.

Jack knew what such a reaction meant: the idea that he would eat dry food or food from a can was disgusting, and so Jack, as the one with opposable thumbs, was expected to continue preparing nice, home-cooked meals for the finicky cat who _refused_ to debase himself by being treated as any less than the average, dignified human being.

The young man quickly found his room-mate in the toy aisle, clearly infatuated beyond his usual character with one toy in particular, though from his distance, he couldn't tell just what it was.

Getting closer, Jack saw a small, yellow sphere between Chase's teeth, what looked like nine or so dots on its cloth surface. The cat _obviously_ liked the thing, at least to the extent that he hadn't even noticed the goth's approach.

He reached out a hand for it, but quickly pulled it back as a possessive hiss sounded from the animal's throat, sharp, white teeth tightening on the ball almost threateningly.

"Hey, Chase, easy! I don't want to take it away from you, but look, if you want to take it home, I have to _pay_ for the damn thing, alright?"

Chase considered this before warily and reluctantly dropping it in the basket, to which Jack picked it up and inspected it, quickly noting the source of the feline's interest and infatuation. "Ohhh, catnip; that makes sense."

Deciding that the visit was just about over, the human dropped the ball back into the basket and began making his way to the check-out counter, the cat following at his heels.

Before he'd gotten half-way there, however, he was stopped by an employee.

"Excuse me, sir, I noticed that your animal is not on a leash."

Jack spared a glance at the cat in question before looking at the widely-smiling brunette woman before him and explaining, "Yeah, I just got him a couple days ago, and I don't know if you know or not, but they don't come with leashes."

The woman laughed. "Yes, sir, but I also noticed that there isn't a leash in your basket, either."

"..." Jack arched an eyebrow. "What, you want a medal for noticing things?"

"Oh, I'm afraid you don't understand; you see, its against store policy for animals to be roaming around without a leash."

"That's stupid," the goth decided, "why?"

"Well," the woman began, "first of all, without a collar, we can't know that your cat's gotten his shots-"

"He just got 'em yesterday, lady. I've got his tags in an envelope in my bag if you wanna see 'em."

"Be that as it may, without a leash, you have no way to control your pet should he come into conflict with another animal or-"

"Well, he's not really violent, you know; I've got him under enough control."

"Still, sir," the woman insisted, now a bit flustered, "PetSmart cannot be held responsible should-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, fine. Listen, bitch," Jack growled, sufficiently annoyed, "I'm just here to throw money away on your crap, actually ready to purchase said crap and leave, and you've got the nerve to bitch at me _now._ Well, get this: I'm not about to have wasted my time coming here 'cause some dumb bimbo wants to wait until the end of my visit to fuck with me and get me to leave without accomplishing what I came here to do. Well, no, that's not happening. Fuck _you._"

And with that, Jack stormed off to the register to angrily pay for his purchases, Chase hissing venomously at the dumbfounded woman before trotting off to follow his human.

...

Tearing into his apartment and slamming the door behind him, Chase very nearly getting his tail slammed in it in the process, Jack practically hurled the plastic bag onto the couch, snarling, "Who the fuck does she think she is?! Rotten bitch probably didn't say shit to that asshole with the rabid-looking Rottweiler off the leash! _God,_" he huffed, flopping onto the couch and running a hand through his hair in frustration, "people _piss_ me off!"

Jack's rage abruptly faded as he felt a small nose nuzzle against his neck, a soft purr reaching his ears as Chase licked his cheek in something of appreciation.

"Ugh," the goth sighed, putting the cat back on the floor, "thanks, I needed that. Here," he tossed the yellow catnip ball into the tiny kitchen/dining area, "go play."

And Chase, true to his hunter name, tracked the plaything of his choosing into said room as Jack clicked on the TV, winding down with an episode of South Park which luckily happened to be his favorite, you know, that one with the dodgeball tournament thing.

...

DAY FOUR

...

Chase's mind was lightly fogged with euphoria, and he rolled onto his back, tossing the object of his drugged enjoyment into the air and pawing at it playfully when it came down.

A suppressed giggle-snort sobered him almost immediately, and his eyes shot to the doorway in alertness.

Jack stood there, leaning against the frame of the door with a smile on his face and a laugh in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Chase," he apologized, "it's just too cute. Keep going, I won't interrupt anymore."

A low hiss escaped the feline's throat, and he instantly was on all four feet, knocking the yellow catnip ball away from himself and turning his nose up in the other direction.

"Aw," the goth chuckled, "that's even _cuter!_ You're embarrassed that I caught you playing!"

Another hiss sounded and Chase's fur fluffed in indignation, but before he could act, the telephone rang loudly through the otherwise quiet atmosphere.

And, as humans always do, Jack went to obey the machine's command, even as the black-green cat watched him intently.

"Hello?"

"..."

"Oh, hey, Mick, how's it goin-"

"..."

"What?! _Thirteen_ scripts?! Are you kidding? I-"

"..."

"By Tuesday?! But tomorrow's Monday! That's-"

"..."

"No, I _do_ value my job, just-"

"..."

"Okay, no, yeah, I got it; you'll have 'em by Tuesday, Mick. You _did_ e-mail 'em to me, didn't you?"

"..."

"Alright, see you Tuesday."

CLICK!

"Ugh," Jack growled, "dammit!" Chase followed as his human briskly walked into the kitchen, soon emerging with the usual plate and saucer that held the cat's dinner and laying both on the carpeted floor, paying little attention to his own actions in doing so as he practically collapsed on the couch with a very loud curse word too naughty to repeat in mixed company.

Chase glanced briefly at the tempting food before instead sauntering around it, hopping up to sit on the sofa cushion nearest to the goth.

Jack blinked his eyes open, staring at the cat. "What, you're not hungry?"

Yeesh, Chase _almost_ hated to do this...

But not quite enough.

Sharp claws slashed against a white cheek, not quite drawing blood, but tearing the skin in a few places and causing Jack to repeat said loud, naughty curse word.

"Dammit, Chase, what the hell?!" He picked the cat up, scowling at him. "You friggin' jerk, clawing me in the friggin' face..." He practically dropped the feline to the floor, commanding, "Go eat your food."

Chase turned and did so with no complaint, an mysterious sense of pride radiating from his being.

...

DAY FIVE

...

"Chase, dammit, give it back!"

The cat ignored this demand, nimbly scampering ahead of his human with the stick of eyeliner held in his mouth.

"Ooh, rotten cat, I'll-..." Jack froze, eyes going wide at the sight of Chase perched on the windowsill, dangling the object in his mouth just outside of it. "Oh, no, don't you _dare_- aw!"

The goth dashed to the window as it was dropped from the sixth floor, watching his beloved eyeliner clatter down several flights of the metal fire-escape before crashing into an alley dumpster, right next to a moldy pizza box.

"Ugh, damn, Chase, that's not cool. I-...Chase?"

As if sensing he had been missed, the feline leisurely trotted back into the room, hopping up to the window ledge again, this time carrying the goth's precious hair gel, but before he could be stopped, said object was sent to the same fate as the eyeliner, only this time landing on top of what looked to be a stained pair of underwear.

"Aw, seriously, Chase, what the hell are you _doing?_ I-" Jack stopped again, this time because of a knock on the door, and he went to answer it, demanding, "Be good, and please refrain from the urge to dispose of any more of my things."

Chase's grin was comparable only to that of the Cheshire Cat.

Swinging the door open, the young man was surprised to see his next door neighbor, that blond bombshell with the ridiculously HUGE chest that always scoffed or sneered at him when he greeted her politely in the hall. "What are you doing here, Melanie?"

The woman looked uncharacteristically flustered at the sight of him and stuttered, "Uh, well, I just...I heard some noise in the alley and I...jeez, I don't know _why_, but I thought you might have something to do with it. Silly, huh?"

Well...that was weird. Melanie would normally say something like, 'I bet _you're_ the one making all the noise, so quit it.'

"Uh, well, actually, it _is_ kinda my fault: my cat has made the decision to throw things out the window. I'm sorry if it bothered you, but I'll obviously try to keep him under control and shut the window, too." The goth had to jerk his head a bit to flip a lock of red hair out of his eyes, and he was surprised to see the young woman blush.

"Oh," she cooed, "don't worry about it, that's alright. You can't be held responsible for a playful cat!"

"Uh, thanks..." Everything about this was shrieking, 'DANGER, JACK SPICER, DANGER'. Was Melanie sick or something? She was acting _really_ weird... "I hope I haven't caused you too much trouble or anything."

"Oh, no trouble at all! Um, say, you wouldn't be interested in..." She seemed nervous, now. "You wanna go out to dinner next week?"

Jack's eyes went wide, and his natural, 'oh, crap, undesired girl hitting on me, abort immediately' gland kicked in, and he quickly excused, "Oh, no, sorry, next week's no good for me, maybe some other time. Let's talk about something on, oh, the thirtieth of February; see you then!" Upon which, he immediately slammed the door in her face.

Wandering back into his apartment in something of a daze, the goth closed the window (which he didn't actually remember opening, 'cause it was nearing wintery weather and was quite cold) and collapsed into a chair. "Since when is _Melanie_ into me? She's always hated me, from the day I moved in! What the frick changed?" he asked himself aloud, forgetting that Chase could understand English and was even now approaching him, "It's not like there's anything _different_ about me-..." Jack abruptly realized he'd answered the door without any of his make-up or hair-care products (and how could he have? They were being left to rot in a dumpster as he thought it). "Am I...am I sexier _without_ the make-up?"

Chase placed his front paws against the chest of the black turtleneck his human was wearing, his back paws braced on the seated man's thighs as he swiped his tongue over the spot where Jack had continually insisted on drawing that _dreadful_ (in the cat's personal opinion, at least) hook under his eye, and his answer to the question was quite clear: duh.

"Seriously?" Chase gave an exasperated-looking nod. "...Sweet." Jack decided.

He briefly considered simply going out and getting more eyeliner and hair gel, but...the way Melanie had treated him all of a sudden...

Jack liked the feeling of power it gave him.

He had made a bitch who hated his guts openly blush and swoon like a schoolgirl just 'cause she thought he was hot.

That's some kind of fuckin' power.

And besides, it'd been awhile since he was in a relationship, and he hadn't actually gone steady with a guy, yet (he had figured out he was gay when a random gay dude, or perhaps a _really_ drunk straight dude, had made out with him during Mardi Gras, and he'd felt more from it in the way of passion and interest than he'd _ever_ felt when kissing a girl). It'd probably be to his advantage to keep a look that, so far, seemed to attract desirable attention if he was gonna go looking for a boyfriend.

Aloud, he said, "Thanks, Chase; I think I'll keep this look."

The feline purred, pleased with this declaration before removing himself from the goth's lap and wandering off to find where he'd left that simply _intoxicating_ ball Jack had bought for him...

...

Later that night, after Jack had fallen asleep, Chase stood from his comfy, dark-colored bed on the floor of the goth's bedroom, easily scaling the larger bed and curling up on the cherry pillow, golden eyes fixed firmly on the sleeping man.

He had done it.

Hannibal had _sworn_ that should he successfully train a human, he would be free, and even now, he could feel the binds of black magic dissipating.

The terms had been very specific: the human in question had to do as he wanted, _when_ he wanted, not to do anything against his wishes, be able to defend his honor should it come into question, take his abuse without trying to deal a punishment, and obey any suggestions he might have on physical appearance, and the human had to be completely trained within seven days.

His previous attempts had all fallen apart. The first refused to submit to him, the second allowed _severe_ insult to come to his character, and the third, ha! The lazy pig (who was the kind of guy who would probably need walls removed to be escorted to the hospital for heart failure) refused to improve his diet and exercise habits whatsoever and, being highly religious, had thrown him out on the street in that stupid box!

But finally, _finally, _on his fourth try, he had accomplished his task, and with two days to spare, even.

The demon-feline held no debt to the higher devil any longer.

He was free to remain here with his newly-trained human and live the leisurely life of a house pet, no more life-draining, no more driving mortals into fits of horrid insanity, no more possessions, and no more corruption of souls!

A purr escaped his throat at the thought of no obligations to the Underworld, and he fell asleep to the decidedly-pleasant notion of living a calm lifetime with the pretty, young human that'd taken him in...

**A/N: So...Chase _is_ a demon-cat after all! :D Detail will be gone into later, when I get around to writing Chapter 2, and then further when Chapter 3 comes along, I believe. Then again, I haven't written this yet, obviously, so things may change, but I'll try to stick to that game-plan. :)**

**Otherwise, yes, this is pretty long, especially in comparison to the Prologue. I think I felt bad about writing so little and pretty much just teasing people with that little bit, so I compensated by making the first chapter pretty long.**

**Several things I must mention:**

**1. I have a pet dragon on an RPG game named Melanthios. :)**

**2. ****I own a cherry pillow, and I love it to pieces. I hate it when other people touch it.**

**3. The vet-scene was _full_ of of cheap references to a character on a kid's show called WordGirl, Dr. Two-Brains; originally, he was a man named Steven Boxleitner who had a pet albino lab-rat named Squeaky. In an experiment gone wrong, the two fused brains, the rat brain _obviously_ becoming the dominant consciousness (ROFLcopter XD) and now he's a super-villain of sorts who's out to steal all the cheese in the city using his intellect, his machines, and his two henchmen.**

**4. I'm going somewhere with the collar, I just haven't figured out how to work the small detail I want in yet; probably by next chapter.**

**5. I'm not an Omi fan, so I've decided to explain Chase's interest in him as a ball of catnip. This idea amuses me personally to no end. XD**

**6. Store employees are annoying when they pester you about stuff, even if it's just the, 'Can I help you find anything?' line. It's like, 'Leave me alone, if I need help, I'll ask you, dammit, chill!'**

**7. The Dodgeball Tournament episode of South Park is one of my favorites. Why? Pip is _bad-ass_ in it, and that makes it awesome to me. :)**

**And that's about it, so I hope you liked it and thanks for reading! :D**


	3. Chapter 2

**Feline Fallaciousness  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown, or any of the characters in it, so don't go whining to someone that I told you I did.  
**

**Warning(s): Cursing, relationships between two men, AKA SHOUNEN AI, YAOI, SLASH, HOMOSEXUAL, GAY ROMANCE. This bothers you? Dont' read it. Very simple concept, people.  
**

**Notes: Pshhh...I don't know. Read it, and I'll get back to you in my Author's Notes; maybe I'll have more to say by then. -.-**

Jack had made his presence known on the dating scene, and for a while, all had seemed well.

But, soon enough, as is inevitable, The Curse resurfaced, the same one that had haunted him when he dated women: he always had _really_ bad luck with love...

...

"What the hell do you _mean_ you're _leaving_ me?" the goth demanded, feeling a bit betrayed.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Sean apologized, "but I can't do this anymore. I just..._can't_."

"Oh, so what? You're just gonna break it off, just like that?!"

"No, I-look, Jack, if you _really_ want, _maybe_ we can make it work, but there's _gotta_ be some compromises, you know?"

The younger man looked up hopefully into the blond's green eyes and asked, "Like what?"

Sean put his hands on Jack's shoulders, his tone firm as he spoke, "Get rid of the cat."

"Wh...what?" the goth questioned softly, "You mean Chase?"

"Yeah," his boyfriend assured, "he's gotta go."

"But...but _why?_" Jack demanded, "How will _that_ fix problems in our relationship?"

"Don't you get it, baby? He _is_ the problem. There's something _wrong_ with that cat, alright? It's _evil_ or something, and its out to get me!" Jack had thought Sean's eyes were pretty like the green-green grass of a field; now they just looked like two tiny puddles of puke. "Whenever you leave the room, he looks at me like...well, I don't know, but it's not _right_!" Sean's hair had once made him think of a pile of straw, cutely tucked under a brown wool cap. Now, his hair seemed the gross color of dried piss, his 'just-rolled-out-of-bed' style lazily concealed under a hat. It was a bit insulting to think the guy wouldn't even brush his goddamn hair out of courtesy before coming to see him. "It's like he was trying to suck out my _soul_, Jack!" And then, in an instant, Sean had lost all physical and emotional appeal to him. His nose was too crooked, his lips too thin, his eyebrows too thick, his posture too slumped, and his personality just too _ugly_.

"It's me or the cat."

Jack snapped.

He shoved the man away from him, putting him about a foot from the open door to his apartment, now, as he deceptively quietly prompted, "You know what?" His hand caught the glass griffin figurine Sean had gotten him on their fourth date, whipping it hard to the ground at the blond's feet (forcing him to back just out of the doorway to avoid the black and purple shards) as he roared, "Forget you, and _forget your hat_!" And the door was slammed harshly in Sean's face.

Tears fell freely from Jack's eyes as he walked back into his apartment, ignoring the glass shards on the floor as he made it to his kitchen and flopped into a chair. He wasn't sobbing or really crying, but the tears came anyway.

The scent of the freshly-made dinner reached his nose, and _then _came a soft sob as he dropped his head into his hands.

This had been their two-month anniversary, and he had made Sean's favorite: pork chops and potatoes au gratin.

Just because the guy turned out to be an asshole and he _knew_ it didn't make the break-up hurt any less.

The feeling of a sentient body in the immediate vicinity made Jack look up, and the second he did, a small feline tongue licked his lip.

His gasp was sharp, startled at the sight of Chase before him on the table, eyes fixed firmly on the goth. The cat was uncaring of his surprise and continued his licking of his human, attention particularly focused on the tear-stained cheeks until not a trace of the salty liquid remained on his pale face.

Jack stopped the attentions with a quiet sniffle and a grateful scratch behind the ear. "Thanks, Chase, I feel better. I still wish he would've dumped me before I went through the trouble of making dinner, though..."

As if abruptly realizing that the food was there, the feline turned and walked behind the plate closest to the albino, nudging it insistently towards him with his nose.

"Oh," Jack sighed, lightly pushing the plate back away, "no thanks, I'm not really hungry. I'd rather not eat alone, anyways..."

Taking note of this, Chase seemed to frown at the refusal before strutting purposefully to the other side of the table, shoving the other plate more towards the middle so he would have room enough to lay in front of it, then doing so and starting to nibble peckishly at the pork chop on the dish.

Jack blinked for a moment, giggling as he suddenly felt in a much better mood than before from the feline's actions. "Okay, okay," he conceded, bringing the plate back and grabbing a knife and fork, "I'll eat. Chase?"

The cat looked up from his plate, and if he knew there was a bit of cheese from the potatoes on his whiskers, he did nothing about it.

The young man chuckled softly, smiling with sincerity. "Thanks."

Chase simply went back to the food, acting almost as if Jack hadn't spoken at all, and that he wouldn't have cared about anything he had to say anyways, but there was a very subtle declaration of 'you're welcome, pet' in his posture.

...

Jack arched his back with a gasp as Tom suckled heatedly at his throat, his hands running appreciatively down the man's strong back to rest at the curve of his lower back.

"Oh, Tom..." he quivered as he felt a hand snaking down to undo the button and zipper of his jeans. He was _so_ ready for this! Granted, he'd only been dating this man for three or four weeks, but they were already _so_ close, and really, what was the harm of having a little fun?

Threading his fingers through chestnut brown hair and kissing his boyfriend fiercely, Jack pulled away, breathing, "Do you have a condom, baby?"

The model (yes, he'd snagged a model!) smirked at him, bluer than blue eyes practically glowing in the dim light of the living room as he assured, "Yeah...I'll get it in a minute, hon..."

The goth sighed and relaxed under the man, kissing affectionately at Tom's collarbone and sliding the fingers of his hand _just_ below the back of his waistband.

Tom, however, suddenly felt a tingle course his spine, and some primal instinct made him glance up.

There, staring directly at him from the arm of the couch, was Chase, Jack's cat, and for some inexplicable reason, the second he caught the feline's gaze, he couldn't tear himself away.

A dark feeling of foreboding was weaving itself through him, instilling a sense of unexplained fear in his very soul, and for a moment, he could have sworn he saw something lurking in the black pupils of the cat's burning, golden eyes, something _evil..._

"Tom?" Jack questioned at the brunette's silence and the tension of the well-muscled body atop his.

The man jumped at the voice, managing to break away from the stare to glance down at his boyfriend, eyes wide and fearful.

The goth gasped at the frightened expression, laying a hand on the smooth, peach-colored cheek. "What's wrong, honey?" He briefly glanced over the arm of the couch, but saw nothing, and so turned his red-eyed gaze back to the finely-chiseled features of Tom's face.

Tom himself seemed to snap back to reality, quivering lightly as he answered, "I-I'm fine, babe, really." He hurriedly got off of the paler, more slender body and stood, quickly shrugging on his jacket and snatching his keys off the coffee table. "I...just remembered I have a really important shoot today; if I miss it, I'll _totally_ lose my job. I'm just gonna get going, 'kay, baby?"

"U-uh, s-sure, I guess," Jack stuttered, eyes wide as he watched the man grab his few belongings, "just, when you get done, try to-"

"Yeah, alright, bye!" Tome interrupted before leaving, shutting the door with a slam.

"...call me." the goth finished quietly, staring at the door with a forlorn expression.

It wasn't until the sound of a Lamborghini's tires screeching away from the street far below reached Jack's ears that he closed his eyes, a hand coming up to massage his temple.

God, he felt _filthy_ right now. He'd nearly given up his _virginity _to that guy, and he...oh, _god_...

A warm weight settled on his bare stomach, and his red eyes shot open to see Chase curled up in a ball, laying casually and comfortably on the albino's belly.

The warmth of the fluffy creature was a nice, calming replacement to the larger body that'd been there a few minutes ago, and Jack smiled softly, petting a hand along the feline's back. He thought it was really cute the way Chase then stretched without using his claws in order to spare the sensitive skin, making the action somewhat awkward before he lay himself the long way over the snow-white torso. "Ah, Chase," he sighed with a smile, "you're always here for me when guys get flaky, huh?"

The cat looked coolly up at his human, something soothing in his gaze before breaking the stare and licking at his paws in bored grooming.

That reminded Jack, and he picked the cat up off of his stomach and stood, putting the animal back down on a couch pillow as he snatched his t-shirt from the floor. "I feel dirty," the goth informed, somehow feeling golden eyes glancing at his unbuttoned jeans before traveling back up to his face, "I'm gonna go take a shower."

Chase watched approvingly as the young man walked away to the bathroom, continuing to groom himself in what appeared to be uncaring aloofness, the light of the floor-lamp only barely bringing out a subtle glimmer of red within slit, black pupils.

...

"Hello?" Jack answered the phone, only to giggle and smile, "Oh, hey, Dean..."

His newest boyfriend, Dean, was one of those really sweet guys that always wanted to go places and do stuff with and for him, a refreshing change from the soulless, domineering men he'd been with at first; in fact, they were going out to see a movie later tonight.

At first, he'd been a bit apprehensive about dating him, as he'd never really been all that close to a black man before, much less in a _relationship_ with one, and he was nervous about saying something politically-incorrect and offending him, but Dean won him over pretty easy with his affectionate demeanor, and they seemed to work well enough so far.

Jack giggled again as Dean gave him another compliment and he practically squealed, "Stop, you're making me blush!" At the mention of the movie, though, the goth sobered a bit and began conversing on the whens and wheres of the date, even as Chase jumped into his lap, demanding attention.

This attention was given in the form of white fingers fiddling absently with the unique tags of his collar, specially-made to give the feline's appearance a special sort of flair.

Centered directly in the middle of the red cloth, just at Chase's throat, was the gold metal, cut into the shape of an eye. What could Jack say? He was good with metalworking, and for some reason, an eye had seemed the appropriate shape. Regardless, the eye-plate was first, and if one lifted it, the rest of his tags (the ones showing he'd been inoculated against rabies and heartworm and the like, along with identification and information) would be revealed, cut into the same shape as the first decorative tag to lie beneath it.

Now, though, the only purpose they served was to be idly toyed with by the cat's human as he prattled on to his current boyfriend.

"So. We're going to see The Dark Knight midnight showing and you're picking me up in an hour?"

Unbeknownst to Jack, Chase's eyes suddenly glowed a sharp red.

"Yeah," Dean replied to the question, the telephone cord wound around his finger, "an hour-" He stopped with no warning, seemingly frozen as a red coloring overtook his brown irises.

And, of course, as their conversation was over the phone, the goth couldn't see any of this, and so could only question in concern, "Dean? Are you okay?"

In a cold, stern voice that was unlike his usual warm tone, the man stated, "We're over. Don't call me again." And then the line went dead as he disconnected the call.

"Wh..." Jack pulled the phone from his ear, staring in shock, "What...?"

Before he could even begin to mull over his rejection, Chase's claws dug into his leg, and he yelped in slight pain, looking down at the cat in his lap with both a dazed expression and voice as he questioned, "What? What is it?"

The feline removed himself from the goth's thighs, waltzing purposefully over to the spot on the carpet where his usual plate and saucer lay empty.

"Oh," Jack quietly realized, "your dinner; I almost forgot." The young man stood and picked up the dishes, heading for the kitchen with Chase trailing closely at his feet.

The goth's mind was in something of a fog at the moment, but that was, surprisingly, for the best. Really, it was infinitely better that he be forced to realize he'd been dumped again slowly in pieces in between making Chase's dinner and being able to cope with it at his own pace as opposed to having been hit all at once and having a dramatic breakdown.

Soon, though, he had dinner ready for the feline and put it in easy reach before running a hand through his hair, sighing raggedly. "Um, I'm tired, Chase; you mind if I go to bed early tonight?"

The cat looked up at this, glancing from his human to the clock that read only 9:16 PM. Clearly, he was a bit peeved that Jack wanted to retire _this_ early when the two of them were normally up until at least 1:00 or 2:00 AM, but seeing as he was pleased that he'd been asked permission, he nodded curtly, allowing the goth to go to sleep before turning back to his evening meal.

Though he begrudged Jack somewhat for it, Chase joined the human in his bed within the hour, heedless of the way he was instantly used as a teddy-bear by the sleeping albino before he'd even gotten settled amongst the blankets.

...

"Hey, Jack? I'm sorry for letting myself in, but your door was open...?"

"Oh, sure, don't worry about it, Percy, it's fine," the goth called from his bedroom, still trying to pick an outfit for the night of romance to come, "I'll be ready in a second. Make yourself at home!"

The raven-haired man smiled at the sweet, chiming voice and took a seat on the couch, holding the small bouquet of red magnolias delicately in his lap. Jack had mentioned the other day that they were his favorites, and he wanted to make a good impression; it _was_, after all, their first official date.

A soft clicking noise caught his attention, and he looked just behind him to see dark-furred cat on the windowsill, quickly realizing that the clicking had been the sound of the cat's nails on the hard plastic sill.

"Hey, there, buddy," Percy smiled in greeting, reaching a hand out to pet the animal, "you must be Chase."

All of a sudden, he froze, his hand only halfway to its intended trajectory.

The quiet of the room had been replaced with demonic shrieks and screams, and sights he _knew_ were impossible took hold of his vision. Horror shook him from the core as his body got hotter, feeling as if flames were licking at his flesh and singing it off as creatures of pure darkness cackled and screeched at him, and in a single moment of clarity, he realized what he was seeing, hearing, and feeling.

This was Hell.

Percy shot up from the couch and ran for the door, desperate to flee from these sights and sounds and dashing from what was surely a cursed apartment before slamming the doors harshly behind him.

"Okay, Perce, I'm re-..." Jack stopped to see his living room completely empty, his eyers falling on the trampled bouquet of magnolias on the floor.

A cold feeling of emptiness flooded through his body at the thought that, once again, he'd been abandoned, and he blankly meandered toward the kitchen, recalling he had some vodka in the cabinet and feeling a desperate need to try and down the whole bottle in one night...

...

Chase stirred in the middle of the night for a reason he couldn't identify, a feeling of something not right putting him at unease, and he unwillingly awoke to determine the cause of it.

Blinking his eyes open, he shifted slightly in the comfortable pet-bed, turning first to the clock. 3:47 AM; now _that_ was annoying, especially considering he had nothing he wanted to do until sometime past noon tomorrow, but no, that wasn't what was out of place.

His second though was that, maybe, his belongings had been moved, but his bed was just where it always was, and his catnip ball safely under the sheet folded up to be his pillow where he had hidden it, so that wasn't it either.

As a more conscious awareness came back to him, he glanced to his human's bed, and the source of not-rightness was revealed.

Jack was not there sleeping, and the blankets were still neatly-made.

The goth had not gone to bed yet, and was presumably still awake.

With a slight sense of what might have been worry or concern (but really, he couldn't be sure as he didn't feel them often), Chase stood from his bed, stretching briefly before leaving the bedroom in search of his albino.

Before he'd even made it fully into the kitchen (where he'd quickly seen the light was on), his sensitive nose was assailed by the sharp, pungent odor of alcohol and he was met with the slurred greeting of, "Oh, there ya' are, Chase; I was wonderin' where ya' got off to..."

His golden eyes darted immediately to Jack, somewhat slumped against the table and _obviously_ drunk, the source of said inebriation, a vodka bottle with about a sixteenth of its original content remaining, standing deceptively-innocently nearby.

Chase sneered slightly at the development that Jack had been here for the better part of the night drowning his troubles in copious amounts of booze.

"C'mere, Chase." the goth spoke, holding out his hands for the animal. When the feline made no move towards him, he pleaded, "Aw, c'mon, Chase, seriously; I wanna talk to ya' 'bout something, alright?"

Cautiously, he approached at this, only to be roughly snatched up off the ground, crushed tight against Jack's chest. Despite Chase's startled and indignant struggles, the goth held onto him for a good while, administering the forceful hug with all the drunk affection he could muster.

"Its true, isn't it?" he asked after a long moment, pulling the feline away from himself enough to look him over, "You _are_ a satanic cat, aren't you?"

The tense, stunned expression Chase gave him then was apparently enough of an answer as he continued speaking, "No, I guess I sort of figured that. I prolly shoulda been tipped off by the fact you understand the English language, huh? Really, though...seems obvious, I guess; I mean..." his voice started to crack a bit, "why else would all my boyfriends leave like that because of you?"

The feline stopped struggling at this, going limp and simply staring at Jack as he poured his heart out. "You know, I thought my life might get better if I moved out, but so far its been almost _worse_. I...I figured since my parents totally hate me 'cause I'm 'wrong' and like dudes, I could start over here, but my job sucks, my apartment sucks, I _have_ no social life, and now to top it all off, I can't even hold down a goddamn boyfriend for longer than three minutes 'cause I'm cursed by a devil-cat!"

Tears broke free from his red, bloodshot eyes, a soft sob wracking his thin frame as he scoffed, "Fuck, I'm such a loser. Look at me, blaming my problems on a cat!"

Chase's body was squeezed tighter, but he didn't even feel it. All he was capable of doing was to stare with wide, shocked eyes as his human gave a watery smile, sniffling and half-stating, half-begging, "B-but at least _you_ won't leave, right?"

After only a brief moment to come back to himself, the dark-furred creature began nuzzling against his 'owner', his purrs affectionate and intended to soothe.

That calming affection was just what the young man needed right then.

With only a minute or so of snuggling, Jack seemed to be both more sober and stable, and he lay Chase down on the ground again, wiping his face of the tears before deciding, "I'm fucking smashed..." He stood and flicked off the light (surprisingly only a slight stagger in his step), heading to his room with the information of, "I'm going to bed..."

Chase remained where he was for several minutes, just thinking.

...

Thankfully, the goth had made it safely to bed, if a bit improperly covered by blankets, but that had been easily remedied.

Watching diligently over Jack from his sometimes-bed, the cherry-pillow, was Chase, still deep in thought. He _would_ be in his own bed, but the thing that had just happened made him feel as though he should remain close to the albino who seemed dangerously close to spiraling into the black pit of depression or perhaps even insanity were he not observed and treated with the proper care.

Of course, he'd known Jack would be upset upon losing another boyfriend, especially so early on, but he hadn't expected this reaction: getting drunk and wallowing in _all_ that was wrong with his life.

And how _could _he have predicted it? In all the months of living here, he'd never seen the goth drinking or scented so much as a drop of alcohol on him whenever he came home with or without a boyfriend, and though there were apparently so many things that bothered him about his life, he'd never really complained.

It was impossible to know how much driving another boyfriend away would affect the young man, and knowing now almost made Chase feel...

Guilty.

"Guilty?" an all-too-familiar voice drawled, "You? Well, now, this boy, must be somethin' _special_..."

Chase's fur immediately rose, not with fear but anger, and through the telepathic link that'd been created decades ago, he snarled to the floating entity, _"Hannibal! What are **you** doing here?"_

Of course, he had taken the usual form, that of a bean, and with a cruel smile, a vine-like appendage reached out to stroke a pale, white cheek almost affectionately with the answer, "Oh, just checking up on the little runt that's gotten my top servant all out of sorts-oops, my mistake, _former_ servant."

A dark and (considering him) dangerous feeling of rage and revulsion flooded Chase at the sight of _his_ Jack being touched by such a disgusting, distasteful creature, and he hissed in warning,_ "If you wake him-"_

"Don't get your fur in a bunch, pussycat, he's hexed to sleep 'til noon; wouldn't want to frighten _Chase's_ little pet," the name was emphasized mockingly, "that _is_ your name, now, right, _Chase?_"

The feline scowled, prowling from the pillow to lay atop the sleeping albino's chest, standoffishly replying, _"I have had many names throughout the years; I am not displeased with the one he has given me."_

"Certainly better than 'Fluffermuffin', eh?" Hannibal sardonically countered.

Chase twitched at the reminder of the old woman he'd stayed with for a brief time. The pampering had been nice, but the name was horrendous, and there were too many other cats around for his liking.

It'd been said before, but as it bears repeating, he did _not_ play second banana.

Regardless, he was loath to be in the presence of his former master any longer than necessary, and demanded, _"What do you want?"_

"Now, now," Hannibal admonished with a smirk, "let's not rush into that so soon. Let's talk a bit; maybe about the little human that's got you so distressed..."

_"I'm **not** distressed." _Chase huffed, frowning as the bean laughed again.

"Fine, 'upset', then, whatever word you wanna use is perfectly alright with me. Either way, it seems to me that _you're_ upset because _he's_ upset, and well, mayhaps there's something _I_ could do."

_"You have something in mind."_ the cat stated rather than asked the demon.

"Oh, I do," he grinned crookedly, "but I want _you_ to figure it out on your own; what will make this li'l ol' situation all better?"

Keeping his golden eyes fixed on his bewitched human (partly because he wanted to make sure he came to no harm from the hex and partly because he didn't want to look at Hannibal any longer), he slowly replied, _"He wants a mate, someone to settle down with. Someone to-"_

"Stay?" the bean finished, "Well, his attempts at finding that might've been successful if it weren't for your meddling."

The cat frowned. _"They were not worthy of him."_

"Oh, really?" Hannibal chuckled, "Well a decent amount of 'em seemed nice and made 'im happy until you drove 'em off-"

_"If they'll leave him over a **cat**, they don't deserve him!" _Chase snarled hotly.

"And who _does_ deserve him, then?" came the stern demand, "You?"

The feline's eyes immediately shot to the bean at this, and for the first time, he found himself without a smart remark or an answer to deny this allegation.

"Oh, ho, ho, ho, so _this_ is the root of all the trouble: your pet wants to be with somebody, and _he's_ upset because no one will stay, and you won't _let_ anyone stay because _you_ want him. What a dilemma..."

Chase _hated_ to acknowledge such a thing, especially coming from the mouth of the entity he hated most in the entire universe, but the prospect of _having_ Jack, not just his mind as he did now, but his heart and his body as well...it was...intriguing, in a sense. Perhaps there was another word that fit better, but alas, he could not think of it.

All he knew was that he wanted to at least try, if just to have the chance to know what possessing such a pretty creature's love was like, and in a flash, he knew exactly what Hannibal had been offering from the beginning.

_"I want my human form again."_ the feline demanded, and he was met with another crooked smile.

"Ah, yes, a human body to seduce a beautiful human boy; just as I figured. But, there _would_ be the matter of how you would pay me for such a generous gift..."

Oh, of _course_: payment. _"What do you want from me, now?"_

"Well," Hannibal sighed in feigned distress, "as you can imagine, with my number one devil gone, my soul-income has slowed _quite_ a bit, and that simply will not do. To expend my efforts on such a trivial favor, I believe proper compensation would be..." he hummed as if considering, only to smirk wickedly as he 'decided', "a million souls."

_"A million?!" _Chase repeated in outrage, declaring, _"Insanity! I refuse!"_

"Oh, that's too bad," the demon cooed mockingly, "I guess little Jackie here'll keep torturing himself with unworthy mortals instead of getting the chance to be happy with you..."

Chase spared his human a glance, the closest noise to a growl able to be produced by a cat rumbling through his chest. _"Fine," _he conceded after a moment with no small hint of malice, _"a million souls in return for my human body."_

"I'm _so_ glad you've decided to see it my way, _Chase,_" the bean grinned, placing his appendages on the feline's head as they started to glow with darkness, "and feel free to scream as loud as you like; I've soundproofed the room for you, and I'm sure I can't fault you for it. Shifting into a form you haven't held in centuries must be _quite_ painful. Not to worry, though," his grin darkened and the black glow got brighter as he assured, "I _do_ so love the sound of your pain..."

And scream Chase did as agony flooded every nerve ending, bones growing and shifting along with his internal organs, the sound of his anguish melding flawlessly with Hannibal's laughter before the night once more grew silent with inactivity.

**A/N: So...Chapter 2...I honestly don't think I have anything to say at this point, so...hope you enjoyed reading it! :D  
**


	4. Finale

**Feline Fallaciousness  
**

**By: Silvarbelle**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown, or any of the characters in it, so don't go whining to someone that I told you I did. ADDITIONALLY, I DID NOT WRITE THIS. SILVARBELLE DID AND ALLOWED ME THE PRIVILEGE OF POSTING IT.  
**

**Warning(s): Cursing, relationships between two men, AKA SHOUNEN AI, YAOI, SLASH, HOMOSEXUAL, GAY ROMANCE. This bothers you? Dont' read it. Very simple concept, people.  
**

**--**

True to Hannibal's word, Jack never heard a thing while he lay deep in his inebriated sleep. He never felt vibrations through the bed as Chase tumbled off his chest; first down onto the mattress beside him and then, as the feline body morphed and grew out of that shape, down onto the floor. He heard nothing, he felt nothing, until 12 noon on the dot when Hannibal's hex faded away and he blinked awake, startled at being abruptly conscious.

In fact, Hannibal had done more than a simple sleep hex. He'd gone one better and charmed the young human so that Jack wouldn't suffer a horrendous hangover when he finally woke up.

Which made it very easy for Jack to have a panic attack at the realization that a naked human male was sprawled beside him in bed.

With a high-pitched cry, Jack thrashed his way free of the bed. He hit the floor hard, groaning as he was instantly bruised, but he scrambled away from the bed as the other man's head lifted quickly in response to Jack's antics.

Gold eyes peered blearily over the edge of the bed, meeting Jack's frantic crimson gaze in dazed confusion for a few moments before suddenly flaring wide with the apparent return of memory. He tried to sit up quickly, only to groan in obvious discomfort and flop gracelessly down onto the bed again.

Jack made an incoherent sound. Where had this man come from? He was pretty, yeah – in fact, _more_ than pretty! He was beautiful! Practically a god of aesthetic pleasantry! But where had he _come_ from? The last Jack recalled, he'd tumbled into bed, sick and dizzy from alcohol and the knowledge that he would spend the rest of his life alone because of his evil-minion-of-hell cat—

Jack's thoughts whirled to a halt even as his body went ice-cold with terror and pain.

_Where was **Chase**? What had this fucker **done** to his cat?!_

Terror gave way to abrupt and dangerous rage. Jack scrambled up onto his feet and approached the bed, his fists curled and trembling as he glared pure hatred down at the stranger lying atop his blankets.

"Right now, I don't _care_ to know who the fuck you are or if you raped me while I was passed out drunk and vulnerable or anything else except _one_ thing," Jack snarled at the lovely, injured man. "_What did you do to my cat?_ Where _is_ he?!"

The stranger had draped a muscular arm across his eyes to block out the daylight filtering through the single bedroom window. His mouth was visible and Jack watched it wrinkle into a grimace, and then a smile.

"So certain I've done something to him? Why not call the wretched beast?" the man suggested, and Jack shivered at the low, rich, husky sound of the stranger's voice.

He hated the way his heart beat harder and his prick throbbed with interest. For all he knew, this man had murdered his cat and raped him while he was – oh, wait. He was fully clothed and nothing hurt. Okay, so maybe he hadn't been assaulted in his sleep, but that didn't mean the fucker hadn't _tried!_ As for calling out for Chase....

"My cat is very... territorial," Jack snapped. "He wouldn't tolerate a complete stranger forcing his way in here and crawling into my bed. The only way you could still be here and he _isn't_ is if you'd done something to him!"

"Like what?" the man asked, a wicked grin curling his mouth.

"Like... like _kill_ him!" Jack shouted, and bent forward to slam his fists on the mattress, making the bed bounce and tremble slightly. "If you hurt him – if you _killed_ him – I will _murder_ you, do you hear me?!"

"All of that for a mangy feline? Rather than revenge whatever indecency you assume I've visited upon you, you would slaughter me for assaulting your _cat?_"

Cold, horrible fury filled Jack from the inside out. In that instant, he could have easily killed the smirking bastard lying on his bed and not flinched.

"I _love_ that cat," he said coldly. "I'm just his servant with handy opposable thumbs, but I like him a lot anyway. He's given me more kindness than any stupid fucking _human_ ever has. And if you've taken him away from me..."

"Yes, yes, I know... you'll murder me." The stranger made an incredulous noise. "Imagine, all that fuss over a used-up old demonic feline."

Jack went utterly still. How had this man known...?

Abruptly, the man sat up. His arm fell away from his face and the eyes were at once visible. Very familiar gold eyes looked deep into Jack's shock-wide red eyes.

"Even if someone _had_ tried to kill me," Chase said, smirking at Jack's flabbergasted expression, "he would not have succeeded. Don't you know us cats have nine lives, Spicer?"

Jack sat on one of the chairs that went with the dining table. He had one leg tucked up against him, his arms wrapped loosely around the appendage while he rested his chin on his upraised knee. He was watching the man that had been his cat move around in the living room. The couch and TV had been pushed back against the walls to give Chase plenty of room to do some sort of slow martial arts stretching exercises that he called "Tai Chi." So far, the movements were very pretty and elegant, though Chase wobbled a few times; clearly unused to being an upright bipedal.

Once Jack had gotten over his shock enough to start firing questions at Chase, the man had shaken his head and promised that all would be explained soon. In the meantime, he was going to go take a shower and, while he was at that, would Jack be a dear and cook up a yummy lunch?

Jack hadn't noticed how easily he'd obeyed Chase until he suddenly realized he was in the process of cooking a steak and steaming some vegetables.

After Chase had eaten his meal, complimenting him on how tender the meat was, the cat-turned-man had declared himself in need of "training" and had taken himself off to the living room. Freshly showered, pleasantly full, still absolutely buck-bare-naked, he'd begun doing Tai Chi and all Jack could do was watch.

It was odd to know that this strange, beautiful man had once been his cat. Even as he thought about it, Jack realized that the small, furry feline was _gone_. He was shocked into making an audible sound of pain at the realization he would probably never hold purring, furry warmth against his chest again or feel the tickle of whiskers during a benevolent head-bonk of affection.

Chase stopped what he was doing when he heard Jack's tiny, pained gasp. He looked over and was surprised to see tears pouring thick and fast down the albino's beard-scruffy cheeks. Immediately, he moved to stand before Jack. Cupping the lovely head in his hands, he forced the young man to look up at him.

"What is it, Spicer?" he asked quietly. "What is wrong?"

Jack shook his head minutely, still held in Chase's grip, and then shrugged. "I just... I just realized that there's no more cat. I'll probably never again feel him – _you_ – curling up on my lap and purring at me."

Chase gave a soft snort of exasperated affection as he stroked Jack's crimson sunset-red hair. "Is that all that bothers you? If you want a pet that badly, we'll get another cat for you to look after."

Surprised, Jack looked up at the (naked! very, very naked!) man who was petting him soothingly. "'We'?"

Chase smirked. "Yes, 'we'. You and I can either go to that pet-supplies store where we got my things or go to the pound or even scour the streets for another stray for you to rescue. Now that I have regained my human form, I am amenable to sharing space with another cat."

The albino man gaped up at his former pet. "Sharing space...? You mean you're gonna... gonna _stay_ with me?"

Chase sighed. "I suppose it's time for that talk. Come over to the couch with me, Jack. I want to be comfortable while I tell you all of what happened last night."

Jack shivered. "I think I need a drink."

Instantly, the beautiful Asian man scowled. He lightly cuffed the side of Jack's head as he growled, "No. No alcohol. Not if you can't drink it in small amounts."

Jack ducked away from the strike. Getting to his feet, he rubbed at his head while glaring at Chase. "Give me a break, alright? The four guys I'd liked enough to try to hook up with all got frightened away by my _cat_, who has – had – serious territorial issues! I was looking at a lifetime of sexual abstinence while being guarded by a cat who was – is – _literally_ from hell!"

"That's no excuse and, though I do not have my feline form any longer, I am _still_ very territorial, Spicer," Chase declared, crowding into Jack's personal space. "You have been for a long time, and you will _remain_ mine for longer still."

"But—!"

"No. I said: on the couch." With that, Chase wrapped his arm around Jack's waist and firmly escorted the young man over to the couch (which was now back in the middle of the living room and when did _that_ happen?) and settled them both onto it.

"Pushy," Jack grumbled, but he curled up on one end of the couch and sat facing Chase, who took the other end, sprawling gracefully; apparently perfectly at ease with his nudity.

Chase lifted an eyebrow at Jack's comment. The motion drew attention to the breath-taking beauty of the man's face. Jack swallowed roughly. It _so_ was not fair that someone so hot was in his life and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Many centuries ago," Chase began, "I was as you see me now. I was a young man in Ancient China, training to be a Xiaolin monk, of all things. However... it wasn't enough. I was aware that there was _more_ to life than the celibate, subservient lifestyle that I was being trained into. I wanted more. I craved so much. Little by little, I fell to every vice there is, under my teacher's unsuspecting nose. It wasn't until one of my fellow students caught me sneaking into the nearest village for dalliance with a willing female that my wickedness came to light. I was brought before the Grand Master: what you would call the leader of the temple. He tried to punish me, but I wouldn't have it. I fought back against them all... and lost. My tarnished soul was captured by a devil known as Hannibal Roy Bean. He is a wish-granter. For the right price, he'll give you anything you desire. I worked for him for hundreds of years until I finally tired of acquiring souls for him to feed his power. I made a deal with him to escape his hold. I wanted to live a mortal life, free of labor and spoiled beyond compare. Being a devil, he is a consummate trickster. He agreed..."

"...and trapped you in the form of a cat," Jack interrupted as he caught on. "What's more spoiled than a pampered pet?"

Chase smiled and Jack was surprised to see a hint of fang among the strong white teeth.

"Clever," Chase said, nodding agreement. "He did just that, and told me that I had to meet specific requirements to earn my freedom. If I met them, I would live out my days as a spoiled pet."

Jack frowned. "Sounds like you were able to die, then. When you did, where would your soul have gone?"

Chase hesitated, and then grimaced slightly. "I don't know. It bothers me to admit this, but I never thought to ask."

"So... are you mortal now? Or have you always had the ability to change like this?"

Chase shook his head. "No. Remember? I was put into the form of a cat. I had access to certain powers – which I used to frighten away your pathetic would-be suitors – but shape-shifting was not one of them. No: Hannibal gave me back my human body last night because he has been keeping tabs on me... and you."

Jack stiffened in alarm. A hell beast had targeted him?

Chase smirked. "Relax. You're safe. You are mine, now. I have claimed you."

Jack sighed in relief. "That's good to know."

"Yes, well... anyway. Hannibal, being an opportunist, came for a visit last night while you were passed out. He hexed you to remain asleep so he and I could come to an agreement. He helped me to realize certain things I hadn't honestly acknowledge and offered me yet another deal for the chance to claim what I wanted."

"What did you—?" Jack broke off as he recognized the word 'claim'. He stared at the other man with wide eyes. "Me? You wanted _me?_"

Chase nodded. "I had originally been content to live with you as my 'owner' - though we both know who was really in charge. Then, you started dating and the men you dragged home were... not worthy of you. You were mine and I wanted you to have only the best – or so that's what I told myself." He sighed. "In truth... I had... come to care for you. I resented anything and anyone that took you away from me; I still do. I wanted you to be mine, _only_ mine."

Jack shivered hard. "So that's what happened? Hannibal offered me to you for--"

Chase shook his head. "No. He offered me back my human body in exchange for one million souls—"

"One _million!_"

"—but not _you_. Whether or not you will be mine depends on how thoroughly I can convince you to stay by my side; to allow me to be your only lover." Chase's gold eyes darkened slightly and an expression of _want_ filled his face. "To allow my lips to be the only ones to touch yours, to allow only my hands to caress your skin, only _my_ cock to fuck you, to give you pleasure..."

Jack shivered again; this time, it was because of the sudden rise of lust in his young, greedy body.

Chase sighed again. "I am determined that you will accept me, Jack. I want you very much."

The albino man scowled. "Even if I say no?"

If he'd still had the cat ears, they would have been laying back against Chase's skull in an instant.

"No," the man said distastefully. "I am a murderous fiend and a minion of hell, but I am _not_ a rapist. I will woo you, Spicer. I will _not_ force you."

"But... you're a demon. You could so easily..."

"I know I could. I do not want you that way. I want you to want me willingly. I want it to be your choice."

Jack swallowed hard. "That's... really kind of you. Thanks."

"Yeah... the boy's a real softy."

Jack flinched at the sound of a new voice in his apartment. He let out a shout, startled, when Chase abruptly lunged forward to drape himself over him. After a moment, Jack realized the man was covering him protectively. Looking up, he followed Chase's gaze across the room where the TV stood.

There, atop the old appliance, sat a larger than average reddish-brown bean. Rather, it was bean-shaped, but there the resemblance ended. Two rooty appendages that functioned as arms spooled out to either side, while most of the creature's body was taken up by a pair of hideous poison-yellow eyes and a large mouth filled with large, disgusting teeth.

"A... _bean?_" Jack muttered stupidly.

"Hannibal Roy Bean," the creature said, its tone smugly proud. "Pleased t' make yer acquaintance, young Mr. Spicer. I wanted t' meet the human that finally made Chase lose his marbles."

Chase growled, low and deep and full of hate. "You've seen him. Now, get out."

Abruptly, he was flung away from Jack; flattened back to the other end of the couch and pinned there by an unseen force. Hannibal nonchalantly leapt from the TV and landed on Jack's chest. Jack felt his eyes trying to cross as he looked down at the tiny form now perched on him.

"I said 'meet him'," Hannibal admonished his minion. "Y' oughtta mind yer manners, boy."

Turning around, Hannibal studied Jack quietly while the young man looked closely at the small demon perched on his chest.

"Bit unusual lookin', ain't he?" Hannibal finally said. "White skin an' red eyes? That's not normal in a human."

"I _like_ his unique coloring," Chase growled, struggling to sit up again. Unfortunately, he couldn't move a muscle.

"Kinda cross-eyed, too," Hannibal opined.

"You're, like, two inches from my face," Jack protested.

Hannibal grimaced and waved a rooty arm in front of his own face. "Boy, d' you even _know_ what mouthwash is? I'm thousands of years older than you and I'm still up on current trends."

"Yeah, well... you're a bean!" Jack fumed impotently.

"Oh, no... it's my mortal enemy, Captain Obvious," Hannibal sneered. "Forget bibles and holy minions: I'm doomed if he states the obvious one more time!"

"If _only_," Chase muttered, rolling his eyes.

"You shut up," Hannibal said calmly, without turning around to face Chase. Abruptly, the Asian man's jaws clamped shut and Chase could only growl in his throat in futile bravado.

Jack sighed. "Why'd you want to meet me?"

"Like I said, boy! Chase, here, doesn't take a likin' t' _nobody_. Knowin' how much he hates me an' bein' beholden t' me, it's a mighty powerful liking he's taken t' _you_ if he's agreed t' work for me again," Hannibal cackled. "I wanted t' see what you're like awake and not drunk so I can see for m'self what's makin' him get all domestic."

Jack suddenly sat up and caught Bean in his hand when the tiny demon tumbled down from his chest. Lifting his hand up so they were eye-level with each other, he grinned at the furious look the bean was giving him.

"This is me," Jack said. "And, I guess I'd have to say you trained him well to be a sadistic fiend given how easily he made me doubt myself and feel miserable."

Hannibal snorted, but a smug look stole across his face. "He's a natural. You're probably going to end up completely destroyed and suicidal after he's done with you, but hey! I'll be sure t' give you a _warm_ welcome when ya finally do slit yer wrists."

Chase's eyes widened in sudden alarm.

Jack snorted softly. "Thanks for the advice. And, really, thanks for putting Chase back in his human form. I thought I was going to be alone and un-sexed all of my life. I'm glad I was wrong."

Hannibal glared at the young human. "Yeah, well, enjoy 'im while ya got 'im, Casper. He's one o' mine, so he has all of eternity facin' him. You...? Ya got a few decades here an' there. Those'll pass in the blink of an eye. Have fun while ya can, boy!"

He hopped off of Jack's hand, made his way over to Chase and sat on the naked man's chest. He grinned smugly at the helpless fury in the golden gaze.

"Or maybe I should be sayin' that t' you, hmmm?" the demon teased cruelly. "After all, it's _you_ what's gonna have t' lose him to mortality while _you_ continue on through eternity all alone."

Reaching out, the bean mock-affectionately patted Chase's face. "Now, I'll give you a freebie for tonight; get t' _know_ your honey, if y' get my drift. But startin' tomorrow, I expect you t' get to work on payin' off your debt."

With that, Hannibal turned and blew a kiss at Jack before vanishing into nothingness.

The instant he was gone, Chase was up and on his feet, pacing roughly around the living room.

Jack watched the lovely man pace and asked, "So... what? You have a time limit?"

Chase snarled wordlessly, but shook his head. After a few moments, he calmed enough to say, "No. The deal was one million souls in exchange for my human form; for the chance to make you mine in all ways."

The albino man sighed. "So... okay. I mean... okay."

"What does that even mean?" Chase demanded, stopping his pacing to stand in one place and stare confrontationally at Jack.

"It means that I don't know _what_ to say – or do! Last night, I got drunk off my ass because I was going to end up a lonely old maid with an evil cat for company. Now I find out that my evil cat wants to fuck me and made a deal with a devil to acquire a body that will let him do it! Knowing me, I'll probably agree to it 'cause I can't fight you off and let's get real: you _are_ hot."

Chase smirked in smug amusement.

Jack pointed at him. "Look, just 'cause I'm lonely and horny and completely unprepared for this doesn't mean I'm all _that_ easy!"

Again, a single eyebrow lifted. "Oh, no? You knew that model barely a month before you offered him your virginity."

"So? He didn't take it – thanks to _you_, I might add. And so what if it was only a month? By today's standards, that's slow," Jack defended.

Chase walked closer to where Jack sat on the couch. As he approached, it became obvious that he was very sexually interested in the white-skinned human man sitting before him.

Jack's eyes widened at the size of the hard-on pointing at him. He hadn't really paid _that_ much attention to Chase's cock when it had been limp. Now, though, he couldn't miss it if he were _blind_.

"_My_ standards will be much more satisfying for you," Chase murmured. "I won't rut you and run, Jack. I won't take your virginity in a hurried rush. I will _enjoy_ you. I will teach you how to give pleasure and how to accept it without fear."

Jack swallowed hard. Finally lifting his gaze up away from Chase's erection, he met the other man's golden gaze and knew that he was lost.

Within a month, things had changed drastically.

Jack had held out for a week (almost a week; alright, nearly four whole days!) before letting Chase seduce him. He had felt one brief moment of weirdness at being touched and kissed so intimately by the being that used to be his _cat_. That weird feeling had faded quickly as the lust Chase had excited in him had threatened to burn him alive from the inside out. He'd lost his virginity in a glorious haze of pleasure and little pain; had enjoyed himself so thoroughly that he'd made _Chase_ claim exhaustion hours after the older man had initiated their lovemaking by demanding multiple repeat performances. Within the span of two days, Chase had fucked Jack on every available surface in every room of the tiny apartment.

He'd earned himself a listless swat on one buttcheek, however, when he'd muttered into his pillow, "So glad I didn't have you neutered."

By the second week, Jack had found himself being given the choicer assignments by his boss since so many of his fellow script editors had begun disappearing. Better status led to better income and soon, Jack was seriously considering upgrading to a better, bigger apartment.

By the third week, Jack was suddenly a millionaire because his parents had unexpectedly died in a yacht explosion that had killed them and nearly fifty other people. Chase had stayed largely out of sight and by the end of the fourth week, the will had been read and Jack was the heir to his parents' fortune.

"Alright," Jack said, as he and Chase walked into the Spicer Mansion on the outskirts of Chongqing, China. "How'd you do it?"

"Do what?" Chase asked, trying to be aloof.

"The police somehow did not suspect me, the will was read within a _week_ of their deaths, I was named _heir_ when I know for a fact that they disowned me after I announced I was gay," Jack said acerbically. "The first two _alone_ should have taken months. That everything was transferred over to me almost immediately is another telling sign. _That_ should have taken at least a month, too. So... how'd you do it?"

"I am very good at what I do," Chase said with a smirk. "That is all you need to know."

Jack laughed, shook his head, and started making his way up the large and ornate staircase in the main hall. He glanced over his shoulder coyly at Chase.

"C'mon," he said, his voice dropping a decibel or two. "I want to show you my bedroom. It's where my mother cried and my father slapped me, and then called me a disgusting freak of nature and said I would never, ever, _ever_ find anybody who'd ever want me."

Chase was very eager to prove the late, unlamented Martin Spicer a liar.

Being young, beautiful, and rich, Jack was very much in demand no matter where he chose to live. That he was clearly gay (having acquired a _gorgeous_ Asian boyfriend shortly after moving into his childhood home) only added to his desirability, since queers were currently "in style." Everyone wanted to know and be known by the strangely colored, beautiful, witty, wicked new playboy.

Very shortly, Jack began making a name for himself in the business world. He took over as CEO of Spicer Industries and astounded the financial world with shrewd business acumen. While Martin Spicer and his wife had been moderately successful, enough to enjoy a wealthy lifestyle, Jack Spicer proved himself a prodigy.

That his astounding ability was largely the result of behind-the-scenes work of his incredible and wicked partner was known only to Jack and Chase.

Not long after that, Jack began tinkering with his true love: robotics. He created a second company; a robotics and technology company, and took the world by storm. He created marvels that were only dreams in the minds of mathematics professors, scientists, and science fiction writers. Fossil fuels were done away with, landfills and oceans were cleaned up, and Jack was well on his way to being Leader of the Whole Entire World.

It gave Chase no end of satisfaction that Jack frequently scoffed at such claims made by the general public and would say, while doing salaciously indecent things to him in bed, that he would chuck it all in a heartbeat if it meant giving up what he had with Chase.

Chase himself was by no means idle. Thanks to Jack's business and social doings, the demon had _plenty_ of opportunity to send souls on their way to Hannibal Roy Bean. Not all of the souls had done wicked, evil things. Some of them were innocent. However, because Chase did the killing and invoked a ritual spell each time, the souls were given over to Hannibal.

He chafed, though. In the time since he'd been given his human body back (nearly four years!) and Jack had accepted him as a lover, he'd harvested thousands of souls. He was still a long way off from the completion of his debt, however, and that meant that Hannibal could "pop in for a visit" whenever he liked, which was too often for either his or Jack's taste.

Ever since the demon had arrived while Chase and Jack had been in the middle of an intense round of lovemaking, Hannibal had made several hints afterward that he wouldn't mind sampling Jack himself.

The only way Jack would be safe from such a thing would be if Chase was free of his debt from Hannibal. As the demon's minion, Chase could be forced to give Jack to him under the right circumstances. As of yet, Hannibal had not made the attempt, but neither was Chase willing to wait for that attempt to be made.

His preoccupation with trying to figure out how to acquire the rest of the souls that Chase owed to Hannibal caught Jack's attention - especially when Jack was cuddled up to his lover in bed, attempting to seduce him into a round or three of sex, and Chase was barely paying attention.

Exasperated, Jack rolled away from Chase and left the bed. He shrugged into a hideously expensive black silk robe and stalked out of the bedroom; made his way to the outer room of their personal suite in the mansion and fixed himself a drink.

Chase walked slowly and regally out of the bedroom. "What are you doing, Spicer?"

"What does it look like?" Jack snapped. "I'm having a drink. It's not as if I'm going to need my sex drive tonight."

Chase grimaced. "Do not be childish. Simply because I do not respond immediately to your touch like a trained monkey does not mean I do not want you."

Red eyes glared with a mixture of hurt and anger at the hell minion in response to the cruel words.

Sighing, Chase walked over and took the glass of brandy away from Jack even as he looped one arm around the albino man's trim waist.

"No, do not fight me," Chase murmured when Jack tried to push free. "Try asking _me_ what is wrong."

Jack went still. Why hadn't he thought of that? There were any number of things that could be a problem for Chase, despite being a powerful, immortal demon. Abruptly, Jack felt weak with fear. What if Hannibal was up to something that could separate them? Even worse, what if Chase was _bored_ with him?

Seeing the doubt beginning to creep into Jack's red eyes, Chase kissed his lover reassuringly before saying, "Come back to bed with me, Jack. I will explain what has me so frustrated that I cannot even give you the attention you want."

Together, the two men returned to the decadent bedroom. Stripping Jack of the robe so he could enjoy the smooth white skin of his beautiful lover, Chase settled them in bed once more and began speaking. He told Jack of his worries about Hannibal's sudden interest in the human man and of his frustration at being so far away from his goal, still. He admitted to wanting Jack to be safe, no matter what. He wanted the debt to be over so he could be assured that Jack would be safe from lecherous demons other than himself.

"If you finish the debt with him, wouldn't that mean I'd be free game?" Jack asked, stroking his hand over Chase's stomach and thighs, enjoying the feel of the soft skin.

Chase shook his head. "No. As a free agent, I would be able to defend you against any and all comers. With every soul I give him, a small percentage of the power of that soul comes to me. My commission, if you will. I _do_ have power enough to go up against Hannibal if I have to, and he knows it. He will not be willing to fight me - not if the debt is finished, anyway."

Jack sighed. "So, if he were to show up and demand that you... what? You'd have to hold me down and force me to let him fuck me?"

Chase grimaced. "Essentially, yes. He hasn't yet, though. I don't know why and I'm not about to ask in case it gives him ideas."

The albino man went tense. "What if he's listening to this?"

The demon minion shook his head. "He isn't. I would sense it."

Jack sighed in relief. "Alright. Wait! Why can you sense it now, but couldn't when he showed up in the apartment years ago?"

"He's been visiting us more regularly; checking up on me. Proximity increases awareness."

"That makes sense. Alright... so we have to find a way to get your debt finished quickly."

Chase smiled and trailed his fingers delicately over the smooth skin of Spicer's back. "You would help me murder people? Jack, I confess I find that thought arousing."

Grinning, Jack curled his hand around the proof of Chase's arousal. He stroked firmly, in a languid rhythm, and listened to Chase's gasps and groans of pleasure.

"I can tell," he teased. "But I don't think I'd have the stomach to actually physically murder someone. Remember the time I walked in on you _hunting_ that one playboy who'd put himself in our bed, hoping to seduce either one of us? It was the first time I got to see your dragon form. What a surprise _that_ was! I hadn't known about that, remember? But all that screaming, and the fear, and the blood and urine and vomit while he pleaded to live... ugh. I was sick for days afterward."

Chase sighed. "I remember. If I'd known you were _that_ squeamish, I'd have teleported him elsewhere to do it so you wouldn't have walked in on it."

"Would you have taken him up on his offer, first?" Jack queried sharply. He grinned a moment later when Chase deftly squeezed their favorite brand of lube over his fingers, allowing his hand to glide smoothly along the erect shaft.

"Not a chance," Chase muttered, his eyes half-closed as he enjoyed the sensation of Jack's hand stroking his cock with just the right amount of pressure. "Only one man – one _human_ — is worthy of me, and that man is currently making me insane with lust with every stroke of his fist."

Jack grinned and leaned forward to kiss Chase deeply. When he pulled back, he murmured, "Good answer."

Then, he adroitly swung himself up onto his knees and straddled his lover. Reaching back with his slick fingers, he prepared himself; kept his gaze hot and wanting on Chase's as he stretched and slicked himself. When he felt ready, Jack slowly sat back. He moaned, low and soft, when he felt the heat and hardness spear up into him in a slow, perfect slide of flesh-on-flesh.

Chase growled his appreciation while his hands went to Jack's hips; steadied his young lover's descent to keep Jack from inadvertently hurting himself. He'd done that once in his eagerness to ride Chase's cock, to be on top for once. He'd learned the hard way that in some instances, slow and steady were preferable to fast and hard.

Chase began to gently thrust his hips, meeting the sinuous motion of Jack's hips as the younger man bucked himself forward and back in a languorous rhythm, riding his lover's cock with obvious pleasure.

"So... what do we do?" Jack asked a few moments later, struggling to remember how speech worked.

"Hell if I know," Chase muttered, and began fucking a little faster into Jack. He would never, ever, _ever_ disdain the feel of Jack Spicer; loved to be buried as deeply inside the beautiful young man as he could go. There was nothing more perfect than being balls-deep inside his lover.

Jack laughed quietly even as he increased his pace to match Chase's. "We have to think of _something_."

"Later," grunted Chase, arching up into Jack. "Later, later, _later_...!"

Jack agreed and all words were forgotten except each other's names as they strove for a glorious climax together.

Much later, Jack lay awake in the darkness. He was warm and sated with afterglow; content to be curled up beside the fearsome demonic warrior that he loved beyond all reason.

"I'll think of something," he said quietly to the sleeping demon beast. "You won't suffer this much longer, Chase."

Sound asleep, Chase made no reply.

"Don't think I don't know what's worryin' you, boy."

Chase glared, but did not look up from his current victim. He was slowly, slowly crushing the heart of a middle-aged woman who had made the opinion at a recent fundraiser, in Chase's hearing, that Jack was a mutant freak that ought to have been put down when he was an infant rather than let someone so creepy grow up.

Chase had taken exception to that comment. The only warning he'd given the woman that her days were numbered had been a brief meeting of eyes. In that moment, she'd known subconsciously that she had been targeted by an apex predator and had fled instinctively.

It hadn't saved her.

Weeks later, Chase had finally gotten around to making her pay for her rude opinion.

His fingers tightened their grip in such minute increments of pressure that it was almost an art form of dexterity and control. Her eyes were wide and pleading, knowing that she was going to die but hoping that she had enough time to change his mind.

Not that she would live long even if he stopped squeezing her heart, given that she was sliced open from her throat to her crotch.

Hannibal perched on Chase's left shoulder and peered down with interest at the latest soul Chase was about to reap for him. When the woman's blue eyes flicked to him and stared in confused fear, he grinned widely, showing _all_ of his teeth.

"Why, hello, Lucinda," he purred amiably. "Fancy meeting you here. It's just as well. The cops were about t' catch up t' you anyway. I don't think they _liked_ you killin' pregnant unwed mothers before they could birth what you considered t' be 'abominations'. Tsk. What a negative attitude just 'cause some li'l guy or gal will come into the world without a daddy married t' their momma."

Lucinda's eyes widened even more. What _was_ this thing? How had it _known?_

Hannibal heard her frightened thoughts and laughed. "How'd I know? Ain't it obvious, sweetheart? Oh, here: maybe this'll help." Abruptly, the flesh of his bean body went bright red and two little horns sprouted from his forehead, while a pointed tail waved from his backside.

_Devil!_ her mind screamed, and her heart convulsed in Chase's grip.

Sensing the imminent fear-induced heart attack, Chase was forced to quickly crush the woman's heart. Deaths caused by Hannibal or anything else didn't count toward his quota. It had to be _him_ doing the killing.

As the woman died by his hand, Chase recited the hex that would transfer the soul to Hannibal. He grimaced at the almost sexual sound of pleasure voiced by the creature perched on his shoulder.

Standing up from the prone body, his hand dripping blood and gore, Chase turned his head slightly and glared at his master from the corner of his eye. "What do you want, Hannibal?"

"What do _any_ of us want?" the demon replied mockingly. He hopped off of Chase's shoulder and splatted down into the gore-caked palm. He rolled, bathing himself in the blood and the pulpy remains of Lucinda's heart, grinning. "We only want what makes us _happy_."

Disgusted, Chase shook his hand free of guck. Hannibal and the remains of the heart slid away; plitted back down into the bloody cavity where the heart had so recently resided.

"Awww, don't pout, boy," Hannibal said, his voice carrying clearly upward. "Such a childish expression for such a terrifying minion of hell."

Chase glared down as he watched Hannibal swim idly in the goopy soup of blood and flesh in the heart-hole.

"Why are you bothering me?" he asked through clenched teeth. "I remember what you said when you arrived. You say you don't know what I'm worried about."

"Good memory on you, boy," Hannibal cackled, his teeth brightly yellow in the dark crimson fluid that coated his flesh. "But it's only the truth."

Chase bared his own teeth at the vicious demon that held his debt. "Why. Are. You. Bothering. Me?"

Hannibal abruptly vanished from Lucinda's cooling body. Too fast for thought to follow, Chase found himself flat on his back beside the corpse with a _much_ larger Hannibal suddenly pinning him down. The man-sized bean blanketed Chase's long, lean form. Heavy, pulpy flesh pressed down and drove breath from the man's lungs while the rooty arm tendrils forced Chase's wrists and hands down painfully against the ground.

"I am _bothering_ you," Hannibal said softly, "because I _can_. Because _I own you_, China Doll. I own every part of you and, if I wanted to, I could have your lover beneath me. I could even turn him into a vehicle to carry _my_ seed. How would you like _that?_"

Chase struggled violently, but could not get free of the crushing weight of Hannibal Roy Bean. The hot stink of the demon's putrid breath blasted against his face, ruining what little air he could get into his lungs.

Hannibal laughed meanly. He ground down against Chase even more; added a lurid, detestable shimmy of his body over the helpless man's crotch and exulted in the enraged howl that ripped from his minion.

"You have _nothin'_ except what I allow, _Chase_," Hannibal said coldly, his amusement ebbing. "Remember that part?"

Barely able to breathe properly, Chase glared up at his master. His thoughts, however, were loud and clear. Hannibal bared his teeth in a rictus grin.

"Ain't nothin' you can do that ain't already been done t' me," the demon cackled. "That bit with the hellhound sure brings back memories of my early days, though."

Chase felt his stomach do a slow, sick roll of nausea. What he'd thought of had been perverse, horrendous, and reprehensible to the Nth degree.

"Face it, boy," Hannibal continued. "You are _powerless_ against me. There's nothin' you can do t' stop me from ruttin' your pretty li'l lover anytime I want and makin' you take a ringside seat for the performance."

Chase wondered for a few moments if he was about to be the first demon to die of terror and despair.

"Well... _almost_ nothin'," Hannibal drawled, interrupting Chase's morbid thoughts. Gold eyes met poison-yellow. Rotted teeth flashed out in a smile of wicked joy. "There's always _one_ option open t' you."

Chase's eyes widened. Not again. Hannibal couldn't already be offering another deal already! He hadn't even finished the first one!

The elder demon smiled and crooned when he saw Chase's realization. The tip of one rooty arm tendril delicately caressed the smooth, beautiful cheek.

A light smear of acid scorched a paper-thin scar into Chase's lovely flesh.

"Yeah," Hannibal purred. "That's it. Y' know what I want, boy."

Abruptly, he shrank away; literally shrank down, taking his excess weight off of Chase and releasing the man's wrists, granting freedom back to the younger demon.

Chase coughed, desperate for air in his lungs again. He coughed, gagged a little, and then forced himself upright. He panted, getting himself under control. He could feel his hair, soaked with Lucinda's blood, lying slick and heavy against his back.

He glared at the teeny form sitting nonchalantly on his left knee.

"_Another_ deal, Hannibal?" Chase asked, his voice rough with injury.

"Another deal," the elder demon agreed. "Another one million souls, and I swear I will never attack or molest Jack Spicer. He will never suffer directly from me or from any machinations of mine."

Chase scowled darkly at his master. He said nothing as he weighed the consequences. The way Bean had worded the deal, Jack would be safe. Hannibal would never set someone else up to harm Spicer. Neither would he hurt Jack directly. That didn't mean other hell beasts wouldn't take notice of Jack, but with this deal, but if anyone else came sniffing after him, Chase would have full range of fighting ability against them as he would not have against his own master. For as long as Jack lived, Hannibal wouldn't—

Abruptly, Chase focused his attention on Bean.

"I'll counter your offer," he said, and enjoyed the way Hannibal's eyes widened in surprise. "I'll accept the original deal in regard to Jack's safety from you _and_ I'll collect another _two_ million souls in addition _if_ you give him immortality, too. No gimmicks, no tricks, no mutations... not even any power. Just make him immortal."

"Well, now," Hannibal said softly. "That's a mighty tall order. Four million souls in total for a human body, guarantee of safety, and immortality."

"That's what I'm asking," Chase said grimly.

The elder demon was silent for a few moments as he considered the counter offer. Finally, he grinned, and then began laughing.

"What the hell," he joked, "why not? You got yourself a deal, Chase."

Chase felt the magical binding of the verbal contract and shuddered slightly. His burden had grown, but at least Jack would be safe with him for a long, long, _long_ time to come.

"You go on home," Hannibal said, bouncing off of Chase's knee. "Give your lover the glad tidings. Tell 'im I'll be along in a bit to give him the gift. I'll clean up here."

Chase rolled his eyes, but got to his feet anyway. He was about to teleport away, but paused and looked down at his master.

"Why did you agree to it?" he asked. "Four million seems like cheap fare in return for my peace of mind."

Hannibal quirked a grin up at him. "The upper management of hellish hierarchy - that'd be me, in case you hadn't noticed - are allowed one day per one-hundred years to do a 'good deed' for our minions without suffering backlash. It's our version of 'use or lose'. And I just used mine for this century. So no more trying to squish me with bibles whenever I show up, boy."

Chase snorted, but was amused enough to let it slide. He was about to say something else when Bean abruptly transformed into something that was mostly mouth, teeth, and gullet that dragged itself over to Lucinda's body. One chomp, and a neat semi-circle had carved away one-fourth of the dead woman's torso.

"No sense in letting it go to waste," Hannibal said gutturally around his mouthful.

Queasy, Chase teleported away without another word.

Jack couldn't wait to tell Chase about his new plan for finishing the debt to Hannibal.

Although, he wondered if that would have any impact on the immortality he now sported. It'd been almost three months since he'd been given the gift. Chase had come home, soaked in blood, and had told him the whole story from start to finish. He'd been queasy at hearing of Lucinda's death, but then had come the tale of Hannibal's arrival and the new deal made. Not long after helping Chase scrub clean of blood and needing a bath himself after hearing of Hannibal's body disposal method ("Do you recall that movie you made me watch, Spicer? 'The Langoliers'? He looked very much like those creatures."), Hannibal had come along to give him the gift of immortality. He'd made a few crude statements about "missing out" while leering at Jack, but he had touched Jack only to make him immortal. Then, he'd vanished and Chase had caught Jack and held him close, needing comfort Jack had been happy to give.

Now, he picked up the phone and dialed Chase's personal cell phone number. Within a few rings, Chase answered.

"Yes, Spicer... what do you need?" the demon beast said before Jack could say a word.

Jack shivered at the sound of Chase's husky voice in his ear. Every bit of his lover was sexy, but Jack especially loved his voice.

"Hey, lover," he said, grinning slightly. He used his toes to spin himself around in his plush executive office chair. His eyes took in a whirl of windows-wall-art-door-wall-plant-windows, again and again. "Do you have a few moments to spare? I've got an exciting idea."

"Has your desk been fixed from the last time we had sex on it? I don't want a repeat performance of that fiasco."

Jack laughed even as the spinning slowed to a stop. He kicked lightly at his desk. "Yeah. I had it reinforced with titanium. Got some funny looks, but hey... I'm rich. What do I care about the opinions of peons?"

"I love it when you talk of superiority," Chase purred in his ear.

"Yeah, well, I'll be glad to tell you later how you're the god of my world. Right now, I have something extra special going on that I think you'll approve of. Can you get over—hey!"

Chase was already standing in front of Jack's desk. He smirked at the younger man and said into the still open cell phone, "Yes, I can."

"Very funny," Jack said, closing his own phone and putting it away.

"I thought so," Chase said. He tossed the cell phone over onto a nearby couch and then braced his hands on the desk and began pressing and shoving rhythmically.

"What...?" Jack queried, confused. He blushed when Chase gave him a lascivious grin.

"Testing it for durability," the demon replied. "Tell me your idea."

Jack grinned, rolled his eyes, but nevertheless began speaking.

"Tell me how the soul collecting thing works," he said. "Do you Hoover them out or is it the killing? What?"

Chase looked up, curious. He left off his playful testing of the desk; stood straight and tucked his arms behind himself, resting them at the small of his back as he regarded his lover. "Why do you ask?"

"Answer it first," Jack said. "It's really important for me to know. I promise I'll tell you once I have the answers I need."

One eyebrow lifted, but Chase obliged the younger man.

"I kill my chosen victims and then invoke a ritual hex that will send their souls to Hannibal," Chase said calmly.

"Do you have to physically maul them dead? Do they have to die personally at your hands in a gout of blood or something?"

Chase hesitated. "Not to my knowledge. I could, theoretically, de-rail a train and then invoke the hex. Anyone dead or dying would then belong to Hannibal."

A huge grin split across Jack's face. "Excellent!"

Both eyebrows went up. "I confess that I am curious, Spicer. What are you up to?"

"Nothing much," Jack said. "Just this."

He tossed a folded piece of paper to Chase. The demon opened it and found a simple flowchart written in Spicer's squished-spider messy scrawl. He blinked, deciphered it, and then looked at his lover.

"A lethal, biogenetically engineered virus that is _untraceable?_" he asked sharply. Jack nodded at him, grinning. "Who is this 'Katnappé' you have at the top level of the flowchart?"

"She's a biogeneticist _freak_ of a woman I've known since I was a kid," Jack said. "My specialty is robotics and technology. Hers is all things biological with a fair knowledge of programming. I mean, she knows her stuff to the point she has grafted cat ears and a tail onto herself because she identifies _way_ too much with cats. She even created genetically superior attack kittens.

Chase blinked. "Attack _kittens?_"

Jack nodded, making a face. "Yeah. Those fuckers are _vicious_. Remember I complained about my favorite leather jacket getting shredded? She used it to test their mauling capabilities."

Chase grimaced. He recalled the state of that jacket. He'd been angry, too, because he'd gotten it for Jack when he'd seen it and thought of how sexy his lover would look in the black leather.

"Incidentally, she has a few cats she'd like us to adopt," Jack said. "Part of the deal if we agree to this."

"Agree to...?"

"She'll make the super-lethal disease," Jack said. "She doesn't like people any more than we do. She'll make it and give the container to you. All _you_ have to do is dump it into three reservoirs of your choosing. Invoke the hex and there you go: _millions_ dead within weeks."

Chase's legs gave out and he sat down in a hurry on the carpeted floor of Jack's penthouse office.

Getting up from his chair, Jack hurried around the large desk and went to his lover. Kneeling down beside the wide-eyed and trembling demon, he soothingly rubbed Chase's back.

"This is what you wanted, right?" Jack asked worriedly. "To get the debt over and done with right away?"

Chase nodded mutely, staring at nothing.

Jack, figuring his lover needed time to process, stayed silent and simply rubbed Chase's back.

Nearly ten minutes later, Chase blinked and turned his head to look at the young man kneeling beside him. "Do you know what this means?"

"That you'll be free of your four-million-soul debt to Hannibal? Not that he couldn't come up with other things to sucker you with," Jack fretted, "but I'd be right there with you through it all. Only thing I'm wondering is if the immortality goes away on completion of the debt."

Chase blinked, and then shook his head. "No. That and the protection and my body are all free and clear ours once the debt is complete, no take-backs."

"Then... what?" Jack asked.

A huge, evil, joyous grin began taking shape on Chase's face. "It means, my devious lover, that this virus will generate _millions_ of deaths. Not just _four_ million, but _more_. The four million that I owe to Hannibal will go to him - less the ones I've already acquired for him - but so will all of the others."

Jack frowned. "Which makes him even more powerful."

"Recall, if you will, that a portion of the power goes to me, as well."

"Yeah. So?"

"So, there is no way the other demon masters will accept Hannibal becoming so richly powerful in souls so swiftly. He'll swell with power - and the will _attack_ him. They will work to keep him from becoming Lord of Hell. As soon as four million souls are in his keeping, I'm free of the debt, which means I won't have to go to his aid. He'll be under attack from the other hellions and his power _will_ reduce. By the time this finishes, _I_ will be stronger than _him_."

Jack's eyes widened. "He won't be able to stalk you anymore!"

Unholy glee was vivid in Chase's expression. "Precisely!"

Cackling like mad hens, they clung to each other; absolutely giddy in their delight. Soon, their joy took a different, more sensual turn, but that was alright by them.

And this time, the desk stayed standing.

Chase stood on the bridge that spanned the dividing lines between the reservoir basins at Ashokan Reservoir in upstate New York. He had a magnificent view of the perfectly still, calm water that was a gigantic, man-made lake that served the potable water needs of roughly 10 million New Yorkers throughout the state. The sun was just setting over Ashokan High Point; the mountain that served as a scenic backdrop to the huge reservoir.

Turning his head, he looked to his right and found Spicer standing beside him. The white skin was painted gold in the light of the setting sun. Despite the brilliance of the fading star, Jack had left off his yellow-lensed goggles; preferring to put up with the minor pain of bright light in return for the spectacular view. The light of the setting sun made Jack's crimson eyes glow spectacularly

A cool breeze whipped up out of the mountains, sending bright orange-gold-brown-red leaves scudding along the pavement of the bridge. October in New England meant brilliant foliage and autumn days with chill air. Fortunately, Jack had worn a heavy jacket and gloves. He was comfortable in the brisk chill. Chase hardly felt the temperature as more than a sweetly cooling breeze though he felt the tug on his hair from the strength of the wind. He grinned at his lover and lifted the small glass tube that was stoppered with a simple black rubber cork.

"Ready?" he asked simply.

"Go for it," Jack replied, and lifted a digital camera.

After all, it was a momentous occasion. Why not record it for posterity?

Chase pulled the stopper from the glass tube. The clear liquid inside remained the same as he slowly tipped the tube upside down, emptying the simple two ounces of fluid into the mirror-calm water below the bridge.

Jack shivered. It would take days for the lethal disease to filter into the taps in millions of apartments, homes, and public fountains, but he fancied he could already hear the agonized shrieks of the dying that would free Chase from Hannibal's control.

Mistaking Jack's shiver for one of dismay, Chase curled an arm around his lover's waist and pulled him close.

"Cheer up, Spicer. Perhaps that annoying, bitchy former neighbor of yours will be one of the first to die. That fool female that suddenly thought you were hot after I tossed your make-up products out?" Chase cajoled.

Jack grinned. "Oh, yeah... her! What's-her-name. Even if I had been sad, that would have cheered me right up. No, I'm not upset. I'm fine! In fact, I'm very excited. Within a week, you'll be free and clear. But only if we get a move on to the other two reservoirs. I know we chose New York as our symbolic full-circle, but time's a-wastin' for both of us immortal jerks."

Laughing, Chase teleported them away to carry out the rest of their sinister plot.

Three days after the seeding of the reservoirs with the untraceable disease, Chase abruptly sat up straight. Considering he'd been sucking on Jack at the time, the younger man considered it no small mercy that his dick had slipped free rather quickly.

"Chase...?" he muttered, not happy to have the cocksucking interrupted.

Gold eyes turned slowly to lock gazes with him. A purely devious smirk of unholy joy filled Chase's face.

"It's done," he said, and roughly pulled Jack to him. "The debt is complete. I'm free!"

Jack's eyes widened. "Already? Wow! That stuff worked better than I thought it would. I totally owe Ashley something outrageously expensive."

"Give her Paris. She likes their culture. That ought to do," Chase said, and kissed his lover demandingly.

Six days later, Hannibal finally showed up.

He was as thoroughly wrecked as Chase could hope for. Bruises, welts, gaping wounds, oozing sores, missing chunks of flesh, and unutterable weariness wreathed the diminished figure.

"How did you do it?" Hannibal asked tiredly.

"I'm good at what I do," Chase said, feeling powerful and evil and glorious. "And that's all you need to know."

Jack was seated nearby, watching the two demons' verbal sparring. He thought of how his random act of pity toward a soaking wet, mangy-looking cat had resulted in wealth, power, immortality, and the eternal affection of one of the most powerful demons to ever come out of hell. What if he'd never gone out that day? Or taken a different route home, or at a different time?

So many what-ifs, all of them leading to paths of dark loneliness, utterly devoid of the one thing that made everything he'd endured in his life worth what he gained: Chase.

He used to think himself the unluckiest bastard on earth. The reality was that he was far luckier than any one person had any right to be.

He smiled now as he watched Hannibal attempt a futile, yet inevitable, power play only to be rebuffed easily by Chase. The elder demon was severely weakened; less powerful than he had been when he'd first come to Chase all those centuries ago.

Deciding that he was tired of Hannibal's presence, Jack got up and sauntered over to stand beside his eternal beloved. What he was about to do was a dirty trick, but hey... one didn't shack up with a demon without learning a thing or two about being evil.

Hannibal's hoarse cry was cut off as the five-pound bible Jack had been holding was swiftly dropped on him.

"I claim this heavy-object-successfully-dropping-onto-annoying-target moment in the name of Wile E. Coyote," Jack said solemnly.

Chase closed one eye and glared at his lover with the other.

Jack held his solemnity for a few more moments, and then dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Chase sighed and pulled Jack against him. He didn't know _what_ he'd done to deserve this annoying brat...

...but if he did, he'd do it all over again, just to ensure that Jack Spicer remained his forever.

The End!

**--**

**A/N: SILVARBELLE WAS THE AUTHOR OF THIS. I WROTE NONE OF IT, AND THE AWESOMENESS THAT IS THIS FINALE IS ALL HER DOING.**

So, yeah...as I said in a recent journal on deviantART, I'd lost all inspiration for this piece and had decided to give it up entirely.

However, Silvarbelle was kind enough to pick it up for me and finish it in this handy little finale, for which I am eternally grateful. Thank you, Silv!

In any case, this post marks THE END of Feline Fallaciousness, so thanks for reading and I hope you liked Silv's wonderful work! :D


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